


Without Fail

by bethwithlit



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ace!Papyrus, Angst, Depression, Discrimination, Emotions, F/F, F/M, Feels, Friendship, Frisk is smol, Heart-to-Heart, M/M, Magic skeletons can emote, Mettaton is a huge jerk btw, Papyrus is a police officer, Post-Pacifist Run, Sans has visions, Sans looks for a job, So yeah, Ups and Downs, Visions, Xenophobia, ace!sans, and this story really focuses more on Sans' psyche, but i don't write romance very well, humans and monsters - Freeform, i mean they technically are, idk - Freeform, now that i think about it the ships are kinda not there sorry, puns, so many puns, stress?, undertale - Freeform, what are feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5227322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethwithlit/pseuds/bethwithlit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans adapts to the surface world, along with his imposing visions and newfound addictions. But with a new job and lingering hostility towards monsters, how much longer will his sanity last?</p><p>Completed!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Rest

Sans woke up with a start, mumbling something about hot dogs and flowers and whatever it was he’d been dreaming about. He was on the couch, and Papyrus was shaking him awake with a grimace. The room was blasted with light from the TV and windows, and everything smelled a little like tomato sauce. Had Papyrus tried making spaghetti again? Of course he had, Undyne had just left. Ugh, that meant the kitchen was probably a mess. Again. The smaller skeleton sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eye sockets.

“Sans! How can you sleep at a time like this? Do you even know what time it is?”

“It’s time to get a new watch.”

“Sans! Ugh, it’s nearly noon! Didn’t you say you had a job interview this afternoon? Have you done anything to get prepared for it?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“What have you done?”

“Woke up.”

Papyrus sighed. “Sans, even though I, the Great Papyrus, am fully capable of supporting us both, I simply cannot let my brother lounge around all day!” He turned off the TV, and faced Sans, arms akimbo. “Today, I, the Great Papyrus, shall help you get ready for your job interview.”

“Bro is this really necessary?” Sans said as he was pushed towards his room. Before he could stop him, Papyrus was throwing clothes everywhere and muttering to himself. Sans knew his brother was just being thoughtful, but he wasn’t crazy about the sudden mess in his room that he knew he would never pick up. If he was lucky, Papyrus would clean it up for him. Papyrus stood up suddenly, beaming and holding a casual-but-not-too-casual shirt and some nice pants. Since when had he owned those? Oh well. In no time he was presentable and ready to go. He was also kind of uncomfortable. There was a remaining hour till the interview. A whole hour left for him to chicken out.

“I’m not so sure about this, bro. I don’t think the job’s that important. I only applied because you asked me to.”

“Don’t be such a negative nancy, Sans! You’ll do great! Would you like me to give you a ride?”

“Nah, I can get there myself,” Sans said, stretching the remaining tiredness from his limbs. “I think I might leave early to, uh, scope things out.” By that he meant walk around until he remembered to arrive late to the interview, but Papyrus didn’t know that.

“Scope things out, eh? Sounds like a great idea! Make sure you don’t get lost in the city, I know I’ve nearly gotten lost many times in that labyrinth,” Papyrus said, following Sans to the door of their apartment. “Good luck, brother!”

“Heh, thanks.” Sans waved back at Papyrus until he shut the door, and took a shortcut to the parking garage where his faithful moped was parked next to Papyrus’ car. Maybe he would just ride his moped around town until he decided to show up to the interview. The air was crisp with the coming winter, and the leaves of trees continued to fall and carpet the sidewalks. It was a pretty day, but Sans couldn’t help but feel paranoid. Already it felt like ants were crawling through his bones as his anxiety tried to take over. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the feeling away. Papyrus would be disappointed if he didn’t at least show up to the interview. It was one thing to disappoint himself, a whole other thing to disappoint Papyrus. The moped sputtered to life, and the skeleton was off, trying not to sweat it.

Maybe life up here wouldn’t be so bad. It had taken some getting used to, escaping the underground, but Sans had adjusted. Sort of. He still wasn’t so sure about the kid. His visions kept getting worse, lately, but they always got worse. Shivering, he decided not to think about his visions and instead tried to come up with some puns to tell at the interview. If they asked him to be a waiter, and asked why they should hire him, he’d say “I think I can bring a lot to the table.” Heh. That was pretty good. If he accidentally spilled a drink or something on himself, he’d say, “This one’s on me.” He smiled a little. That was good too, but he hoped he wouldn’t spill anything. That wouldn’t look good for him in the long run.

Ring-ring! His phone caught him off guard, and he almost swerved into a telephone pole.

“Sup,” He said, pulling to the side of the road, ignoring the dirty looks from the drivers passing him.

“Hello Sans!” It was Toriel. “Your brother told me that you were having a job interview today.” Of course he told her.

“Yup! I hope they’re okay with hiring a skeleton though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they might think I don’t have the guts for the job.”

She laughed and he smiled.

“Oh, Sans, I’m sure you’ll do fine. Do you know when you’ll be free next? I need a babysitter for Frisk this evening so I can go and get groceries.”

“I should be available in a couple of hours. But, uh, do you really think Frisk needs a sitter? I mean, after all the kid’s gone through…”

“... I know, I know. I’m just not comfortable leaving them alone anymore.” She was quiet for a moment, and Sans felt chills run down his spine. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. “I haven’t told anyone this yet… but last week they were having some issues sleeping. I think they’ve been having nightmares.”

Sans frowned. “Yeah, I’ll come over later.”

“Oh, thank you dear! Maybe you could invite Papyrus to come help and after I can make a nice meal for all of us.”

“It’s a date. Later, Tori.”

“Goodbye, Sans.”

Click.

 _‘Oh my God did I just say ‘it’s a date’ to the queen, holy cow,’_ he freaked out inwardly.

Sans merged back into traffic, still trying not to sweat it, hands and legs jittery. Whenever he talked with Toriel the world seemed brighter. Calmer even. It was like he could see more colors and more beauty in the world when he heard her voice. It confused the heck out of him, but he decided not to think about it too much. That was his policy: If it’s confusing or scary, ignore it and maybe it’ll go away. He made an exception with Toriel, though. He couldn’t ignore her, that would would hurt her feelings, and who was he to hurt the feelings of the ex-queen?

After riding around for awhile, Sans stopped in a parking lot and lit a cigarette. All the humans he’d met who’d said anything about smoking had warned him that it ruined your lungs. But Sans didn’t really have lungs, so he concluded it was different for him. He’d never tell Papyrus though. Or anyone else for that matter. The only one who he thought might guess anything about it was Undyne, but she probably wouldn’t care that much. Besides, it made him feel a little better. Hey, if it made him feel better, Sans figured it was decent enough for him. Sans glanced around the parking lot. It was about a block away from the locally-owned cafe he’d sent an application to, and pretty empty. That was surprising, considering this was the heart of the city. Maybe it was just a slow day.

Stepping out into the street was like entering another world. More people, more sights, less gray. Signs flashed in the sun and delicious scents filled the air, though somewhat tinged with the smell of gasoline. Sans continued to feel uneasy, mostly because he wasn’t wearing his usual outfit like the lazybones he was, but also because of all the humans. There were a lot of them. And he couldn’t help but notice the occasional suspicious stare or muffled gasp as he passed by. Definitely set him on edge. Didn’t help that he stood out so much, with his stark white bones and his shortness. Now he was beginning to sweat it, very much so.

Pausing by an alley, he stomped out his cigarette and lit another one. Gosh, why was he so freaked out? Was it nerves? His anxiety? Damn, who knew a guy could get so riled up just by existing? Really dampened his day. He just needed to take a breather. Everything was fine. Breathe in… breathe out… he let the smoke fill his rib cage and let it tickle his eye sockets on the way out. He listened to the heartbeat of the city, the cacophonic monotony. The clicking of bikes, the booming of cars, the chatter of passersby, the clatter-clink of a fence…  

He practically jumped out of his shoes when a couple of mangy-looking dogs barked from behind a fence nearby. Regrettably, he managed to jump backwards into foot traffic, knocking over a couple of humans.

“Oh my God are you–” Sans couldn’t finish his thought before a human took one look at him and freaked.

“What the– who the hell do you think you are?”

“Stacy, calm down–”

“No! That monster just assaulted me!”

The dogs continued to bark, drool foaming to the ground. Sans’ legs felt like jelly.

“Stacy, I’m sure it was an accident.”

Sans took a step back, trying to stutter out a sorry. The human named Stacy kept yelling and the other human tried putting some sense in her head, but Sans could feel panic set in. Before another moment had passed, he ran. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, away, away, away, away, away. He still could hear the dogs barking in his head, yelling, yelling– oof! He’d bumped into someone else, and he heard something clatter to the ground, but he continued running anyway.

He wasn’t sure how long it was until he stopped, but when he did stop he was out of breath behind a gas station. He swore. A lot. And lit another cig.

Inhale. Exhale.

Everything was fine. He looked down at his shirt. A large stain spread across it, probably coffee. When had that happened? Fuck. Sans suddenly felt very much like taking a nap.

 

He showed up late to the interview as he’d guessed he would, his shirt was a mess, and he was out of breath. Like, really, really out of breath. That was the most he’d run in his entire life. So Sans was definitely surprised when they didn’t immediately turn him away. The owners of the little cafe, Caffee, were a human couple by the name of Dan and Shelby Owens. They were very nice, and obviously frazzled. Shelby had short blonde hair and reminded Sans a little of Toriel. Dan had a lot of tattoos and was kind of intimidating, but acted nice. And thank God they asked him why they should hire him to be a waiter, because he definitely stuck the landing with that pun. They laughed a lot.

Smiling, Sans suddenly felt a little better.

“We’ll definitely get back to you as soon as we can, Mr. Sans,” Shelby said with a smile.

“Please, it’s, uh, just Sans. Thanks.”

“No, thank you, Sans. If you haven’t noticed, our little business is really hurting for help. Our host and a couple of other staff members quit–”

“Not on bad terms, mind you. It was all mutual. They had their own lives to get to, ya know?”

“Ok. Cool.”

“Yeah, and, you know, we really want to be supportive of the whole ‘monsters’ movement, ya know? So many people are already so hostile towards each other, I can’t imagine how hard it must be to try and get a job.”

Sans tried to keep smiling. “...Yeah.” Aw, crap. Of course, that whole thing would be brought up. He knew they meant well, but… just being referred to as a monster didn’t feel nice. Like, he got that that’s what they were called, but the word monster could mean so many things. He didn’t like it. They stood up, and Sans followed suit, shaking their hands with some hesitation. An empty feeling in the skeleton’s chest was all that remained when he left the cheery establishment.

The crisp air no longer sent a tingle of newness down his spine– now it was just cold. Why was he feeling this way? Everything had gone better than expected. Everything was fine. But why didn’t he feel fine? Why didn’t he feel fine? A shortcut later, he was by his moped. His phone buzzed. It was Toriel, texting him.

**-Hello, dear! I’m just contacting you to see how everything’s doing and if you are still up to babysitting Frisk. ]:)**

**-ye everything’s cool i’m on my way now**

**-Oh good! Make sure you invite Papyrus too.**

**-will do :)**

Eye sockets filled with only a vacant stare, Sans let a few minutes pass before texting Papyrus.

**-yo**

Hardly a second passed before Papyrus responded.

**-HELLO BROTHER! HOW DID THE INTERVIEW GO?**

**-good. Tori's wanderin if u r free to help me babysit frisk**

**-THAT SOUNDS LIKE A WONDERFUL IDEA! WHEN DOES SHE REQUIRE OUR ASSISTANCE?**

**-like rn**

A pause. Damn.

**-I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE TO HELP CARE FOR THE HUMAN FRISK, BUT (FEAR NOT!) I WILL BE ABLE TO SHOW UP IN ABOUT HALF AN HOUR! ):**

Sans rubbed a little more sleep out of his eye socket. Yeah, he should’ve figured this would be the case.

**-its cool bro. cya then**

**-SEEYA!**

_‘Whelp, tonight should be interesting.’_

 

“Sans!” Frisk squealed upon opening the door. They had the biggest smile, and a the room behind them was covered in various toys. Toriel certainly was spoiling the kid, but nobody seemed to mind. If anything, the kid deserved to be spoiled.

“Hey buddy. Mind if I come in?”

They shook their head and ran giggling to find Toriel. Stepping inside the modest household, Sans smiled a little. This was just what he needed right now. A chance to, you know, take his mind off things. As much as he was wary of the kid, they meant a lot to him. Frisk had saved the people of the underground. Probably reality as everyone knew it too. Sans was a little confused with that part, but he always just shrugged it off. He figured it wasn’t his place to know.

“Sans! Thank goodness, I was just about to head out.”

“Hey, Tori. My bro should be here in about half an hour.”

“Oh good– Oh my,” she was surprised to see the massive stain on his shirt. “What happened? Here, you can borrow one of my sweaters.” Pulling a sweater off a nearby coat hanger and handing it to him, she said with a tone of pride, “I knitted it myself. You can use my washing machine if you want.”

“Oh, uh… thanks.” It was a nice sweater, salmon pink with white stripes. “I, uh, bumped into someone–”

“Papyrus is coming?” Frisk asked, eyes filled with excitement.

“Yup. He’s a little busy right now, but he’ll be here.”

Toriel chuckled a lovely warm chuckle, and patted Frisk on the head. “You be good for Sans, okay, dear?”

“Okay!” They ran off, leaving Toriel and Sans a moment alone.

“I want to thank you again, Sans. Frisk really looks up to you, you know.”

“Heh, well… what can I say? Guess I’m just a good _skull_ model.”

She laughed. “That was so bad! Heh, I’ll be back by the hour, Sans. Toodles!”

“Later.”

Giving Sans a cheerful smile, the ex-queen left with a hum.

 

“Hey kid, did you know I used to be addicted to soap?”

“What? That’s silly!”

“It’s ok– I’m clean now.”

They both laughed, Frisk hugging their new favorite toy, which was a plush monster doll Toriel had made for them. “Sans, you’re silly.”

“Why thank you.”

Frisk gasped. “I know what we should do! We should play hide-and-seek!”

“You got it, buddo. You wanna hide first?”

They nodded their head eagerly.

“Well you better skedaddle, because I’m counting to a hundred! One…”

They leapt up off the ground and ran into various rooms while Sans covered his eyes and counted.

“Two…”

Sans smiled, hearing their little feet pitter-patter on the floor.

“Skip a few, 99, 100!” He yelled through the house with a mischievous grin. A distant yelp gave Frisk’s position away, and Sans laughed. For all the kid had been through, they were terrible at this game. Shrugging, Sans blatantly looked through all the rooms they weren’t in first and then reached Toriel’s room. Her room was a master bedroom, but the decor was modest. A few flower pots sat in a couple of corners, a picture frame on the desk. Sun streamed through the window, highlighting a well-made bed.

“Hm… I wonder where Frisk is?” He said, walking around the room, and opening various drawers and closet door. A stifled giggle escaped from under the bed. He opened the drawer on the bedside table, pondering out loud, “Not in here… I wonder…”

He fell down on all fours, peeking under the bed with a big smile and scooping the up child in his arms. “Found ya, squirt!”

“Hey!” They laughed when he gave them a big raspberry. The kid squirmed out of his arms and, pointing, said, “Your turn!”

“Heh, okay, just give me a minute, kid.”

He took his sweet time walking out of the room, but tip-toed with eagerness into the kitchen, the bathroom, and then the guest room. The guest room, of course, was very well kept. It was similar to Toriel’s, though not as big, and had a few boxes stashed in the corner. A few looked empty. There was also a wardrobe across the room.

“One hundred! Ready or not, here I come!” Frisk’s voice was distant but getting closer. Sans leapt into a box, not as gracefully as he thought he’d be, but quiet enough. He closed the lid and sat in the darkness, smiling to himself. The hiding spot was in plain sight, but far too obvious to be suspect. Pit-pat-pit-pat-pit-pat… footsteps ran across the house in a mad frenzy, getting closer and closer and then further and further. Frisk entered the room, dashed into the wardrobe, dashed to the bed, dashed out. Sans blinked. Was it just him, or did it feel a lot later than it was? It was kinda nice, sitting in this small, dark space. He closed his eyes. Just for a second. Just until Frisk found him.

He opened his eyes, and he found himself sitting in a field. Specifically, the park in town. He was alone. Wildflowers sprung up like confetti in the grass, and it felt nice out. Warm, open, a nice breeze. It was almost warm enough to take off his jacket. Hadn’t he been wearing Toriel’s sweater? Standing up, a pair of butterflies danced around him. His heart felt happy. A smile lit up his face. How long had it been since he’d been here? Too long. He saw friendly faces in the distance, waving at him. He waved back. How did he get here? Why was he here? Frisk smiled at him, on the other side of the field. But the smile didn’t feel good. It was… different. Sad? Mad? Scared? Sans shuddered, falling to his knees. Reality bent in on itself, warping and bending and ripping apart at the seams. He fell and he fell and he fell, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He tried screaming but he didn’t have anything to scream with. Tumbling through the void, it felt like his nonexistence would tear his soul apart. He tried screaming again… nothing. It felt like he was being crushed by the nothing. Bone-crushing pressure, no longer falling, but fighting to stay existing. He flailed his non-arms, kicking as hard as he could, tried to tear himself away from this place. Even as he felt himself disappearing, the void whispered his name, as if mocking his very existence.

“Sans!”

Sans fell out of the box, sweating and trembling and panting and oh god what was going on where was he, where was he, where was he? A familiar face looked down at him– Papyrus. Why was he here? Why would the void torture him too– but they weren’t in the void.

It was the guest room. Papyrus was holding him, both of them scared. Frisk stood in the doorway, expressionless.

“Sans! Sans, what happened? Are you okay?” Papyrus asked, helping Sans get into a sitting position on the floor. Sans hugged himself, trying to steady his breathing. He was safe. It was only a vision. Everything was fine. Safe. Even so, he avoided looking at Frisk.

“I, uh… I’m fine, bro. Just, uh… heh, claustrophobic.”

“Claustrophobic, eh? Are... you sure you are alright?”

Sans nodded, standing up. “Urgh… I need some air. Um. Is it okay if I leave you two here for a bit while I go for a walk?”

“Why don’t we come with you?”

“Yeah!”

He really just wanted to smoke, and get out of there for a bit. How could he say no to them, though? Scratching the back of his neck, he shrugged. “Um… I, uh… I think Uncle Sans needs some time to himself. I’ll be back in a jiffy though, okay?”

Frisk pouted, but nodded. “Okay.”

Papyrus seemed concerned still. “Are you positively sure you’re okay, Sans?”

“I’m as okay as the hokey pokey. Seeya in a bit.”


	2. No Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit longer than the last, hope you enjoy!

The walk was a bit damp and dark as night began to fall, but he felt weird smoking in such a nice neighborhood. He also would’ve hated for Toriel to see him if she drove by, so he stamped out the cigarette prematurely and headed back. Opening the door, Papyrus waved up at him from the floor as Frisk jumped up and down on his chest excitedly.

“Back so soon, brother? The queen texted me and said she’d be home in a few minutes!”

“Cool. Did she say what she’s making for dinner?”

“Dinner!” Frisk exclaimed, jumping off of Papyrus and running around the room.

“No, but I am quite certain it will be delicious! Though… not as delicious as my spaghetti.”

Sans hugged himself, feeling a little awkward about barging out. “How’s the kiddo doin’?”

“Splendid! We were just about to build a pillow fort, but then I, in my grande wisdom, realized we should inquire of Toriel before doing so.”

“Good idea–” Frisk ran into him and hugged him. He smiled and patted their head. “Maybe we can do the fort thing after dinner, kid.”

“Mhm,” They said, and jumped onto the couch.

“So,  brother! How did the job interview go? Did you scope things out?”

“Uh… yeah! Like a hawk.” ‘shit can we not talk about this please, please, please.’

“Oh good! Er… Sans, what’s a hawk?”

Sans shrugged. “Dunno. Just heard a human say that, and I thought it sounded funny.”

“Oh. Well, what about your interview, brother?”

“Um. They said they’d call me back. I guess that’s a good thing.”

Papyrus’ face lit up, and he hopped to his feet. Frisk immediately clung to his leg and he walked as if they weren’t there. “That’s absolutely splendid, Sans! I’m so excited! I can’t wait to tell Undyne about this! This is magnificent!”

“Heh, yeah, I guess so.”

“This event calls for something special!”

“Special?” Sans and Frisk said with completely different attitudes.

“I know just the thing! Once we get home I, Master Chef Papyrus, will make the best, most flavorful batch of spaghetti known to all existence!”

“Oh… cool, that sure sounds… special!” Sans smiled, knowing he’d have to pretend his brother’s cooking skills were any good. Frisk giggled as Papyrus stomped around for them. Sans flopped down on the couch, watching the two parade through the living room. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Everyone was happy, smiling, comfortable. Content in life. He felt like the only exception, but it helped to see others happy. Frisk jumped off of Papyrus’ leg and launched themself onto Sans’ lap with a big smile and a giggle. The breath was punched out of Sans, but he laughed anyways.

“Oof… heh, hey kiddo.” He ruffled their hair.

“Let’s play something! All together!”

“Okay, whatcha wanna play?”

“Um…”

Before they could answer, Toriel walked through the door carrying a couple stuffed paper bags in one arm and her keys in her other hand.

“Evening! I don’t suppose you three would help me with the rest of the groceries? They’re out in the car.”

“Not at all, Tori,” Sans said, getting up maybe a little too fast. Frisk ran up to Toriel and hugged her, which wasn’t really helping her get the groceries to the kitchen, but she smiled anyway.

“Hello, my child. Why don’t you come with me into the kitchen and help me put these things away, hm?”

“Okie-dokie!”

The two left for the kitchen and the skeletons left for the car. Papyrus carried four bags at a time, while Sans was only able to manage one at a time. In his defense, the bags weren’t much smaller than him and just one gave him enough exercise for a week. Even so, he felt a little bad for not being able to help much. A few trips to the car later, and everyone was laughing at his puns about the food in the kitchen. He picked up a package of butter.

“Hey Frisk, did you know that when making butter, there’s little margarine for error?”

Frisk howled with laughter, nearly falling off of their stool at the kitchen island. Toriel chuckled, but Papyrus didn’t really seem to get it. Toriel picked up some deli meat, saying, “I get distracted by all the different meats in the deli, must be my short attention spam.” Everyone laughed at that, Sans wiping a tear from his eye socket. Papyrus seemed to be catching on now, but his laugh was somewhat annoyed, if not forced to be polite. Frisk noticed. They snatched a package of lightbulbs and tossed them at Papyrus, saying, “Lighten up!” He barely managed to catch it.

 _“Frisk, not you too!”_ Papyrus groaned. Laughter filled the kitchen.

 

Sans chopped up a couple of carrots, listening to Toriel talk. Papyrus and the kiddo were building a fort in the living room, muffled laughter and animated talk escaping through the walls. Toriel’s paws carefully peeled potatoes and various vegetables as they prepared a simple stew, throwing the chopped items into a pot. Already wonderful smells emanated from the pot, and the aroma of baking bread wafted from the oven as buns cooked.

“Do you think we should put beef or, uh… this meat into the stew?”

“That’s bacon, right?”

“Ah, yes! Bacon.”

“Hm… haven’t had beef in a while.”

She chuckled, pulling the meat out of the fridge. “Beef it is then.” As she began to cube it, she looked at him and asked, “How was your interview, Sans?”

He sighed, perhaps too loud. This wasn’t really a topic he felt like talking about. “It was okay. They said they’d call me back.”

She beamed. “Oh that’s lovely, Sans! Do you think it will be a good fit?”

Shrugging, he muttered, “I, uh, guess so. Not sure yet.”

“I understand. When I first took the job at the school, I was concerned the human students and staff wouldn’t like me. But, do you know what I did?”

“What?”

“I _made_ them like me. I made sure I was the nicest person there,” She said with pride, throwing the meat into the pot and placing it on the oven top. “I brought in snacks for the kids. I helped them with their homework. I am understanding of different learning skills. With the staff I like to write nice letters to them, and bring in baked goods for the teacher’s lounge. We also have lovely chats while the kids are at recess.”

“Heh, I bet they love you there, Tori.”

She smiled, stirring the stew. “Most of them do. There are a few who are still… wary of me. But you know how it is.”

Sans frowned. “Yeah.”

A pause as the stew began to bubble. They could hear Frisk giggling incessantly in the living room, and a loud bang as Papyrus most likely fell off of something in an effort to impress them. Sans sighed, taking silverware out of the drawer and beginning to set places on the table in the dining room. The dining room was connected to the kitchen, in an octagonal room with a large window facing the road. Decorative curtains and wall ornaments really gave the room life, and the big table could easily seat ten people at least. Sans smiled, remembering playing underneath the table with Frisk once, pretending it was a house. Glancing up, he saw himself in the window’s reflection. It was too dark outside to really see outside, so his reflections stuck out to him. He approached his reflection. It was kinda sad. He looked… frail, despite his big bones. And when he frowned, he thought he looked even more feeble. It almost looked like a hairline crack ran down his skull, but he knew that was just his imagination. He’d seen that many times in his visions but whenever he really looked it wasn’t there.

“Sans, dear, can you stir the stew while I take care of the buns?” Toriel snapped him out of his thoughts from the other room.

“Uh, yeah, sure thing.”

 

The stew was a hit with everyone, even if Papyrus preferred spaghetti. By the time they’d finished the delectable meal, Frisk was ready to go to bed. Toriel helped them get ready for bed while Sans and Papyrus cleaned up the kitchen. It was around 8:30 by the time Frisk was settled enough to sleep. Toriel emerged quietly from their room, smiling with tired eyes.

“Oh my… today certainly has been a long day,” She said, leaning against the wall.

“Tell me about it,” Sans said. It had definitely been a long day. Too long. He needed some sleep. In fact, they all needed some sleep.

“Indeed! My brother and I should be heading home, dear Toriel.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll show you to the door.”

They walked in comfortable silence to the door, Toriel opening it and letting a gust of cold air in. She turned to them, smiling. “Thank you two so much for taking care of Frisk for me. It really made my day. You are both such great helps!”

“You are very welcome, Toriel!”

“Heh, no problem.” Sans hoped he wasn’t blushing.

Waving goodbye from the outside darkness, Papyrus somehow chucked Sans’ moped in the back of his red hot rod, Sans slumping into the passenger seat. Papyrus jabbered about his day as they pulled out of the driveway and headed home. Sans couldn’t help but close his eyes, the drone of the motor and his brother’s voice lulling him into a deep sleep. Too deep a sleep for him to notice when they arrived at their apartment building, Papyrus carrying him up the winding stairs, past the rooms blaring with music, into their apartment and into his room. He was far too deep in sleep to notice when Papyrus tucked him into his bed.

He did, however, notice the wind outside when he woke up in the middle of the night. It sounded like a storm out there, wind rushing and rain gunning down whatever stood in its way. Standing up on his bed, he pushed his window open, looking down at the street. The roads were empty save for the rain water running in rivulets to the drain. Thunder rumbled in the distance. When had the storm started? And why did it wake him? His neck craned further out the window. Was he looking for something? Someone? Why was he suddenly awake? Minutes passed and no answer came to him. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Either way, he felt on edge. Listening to the apartment’s creaks, he sighed. Now felt like a good time to light a smoke. He snapped his fingers and a small blue flame lit the cig in his phalanges, casting a blue haze on his face as he stared out the window. Puffs of smoke wafted out of his eye sockets and into the night time storm, rain seeming to be shooting holes right through it. That’s what he felt like. He felt not quite whole, like something was missing, like holes were being torn through his very being.

It didn’t feel good.

A shiver ran through his bones, and sorrow slithered through his skull like a serpent. He didn’t know why. A brief sob escaped him, yet he managed to hold it in. Almost. A tear rolled down his cheek bone, fiery blue and solitary. Shuddering, he put his head in his hands. What was his problem? Why couldn’t he truly be happy? It always ended like this– a good day, but he felt rotten in the end. Disgusting. Repugnant. Loathsome. Monster. He sobbed again, louder this time, again and again, tears landing on the window sill. Why couldn’t he be more like his friends? Like Papyrus, or Toriel, or Undyne, or Frisk, or–

He gasped when he heard movement from Papyrus’ room, and spat what was left of the cigarette out, rushing to compose himself and hide his mental strain. The door creaked open just as Sans got back under the covers. His brother paused, and Sans held his breath to prevent himself from crying. A minute passed, and the door closed with a soft click. His breath left in a raspy choke, and he burrowed his face into his pillow, quietly crying himself back to sleep.

 

When Sans woke next, he was at the modest dining table, a bowl of oatmeal sitting in front of him. For some reason, he remembered he was still wearing Toriel’s sweater, his own stained shirt wrinkled underneath. Papyrus was nowhere to be seen, but there was plenty of evidence that he’d been here recently: the kettle was steaming but off of the burner, the dishwasher was humming a tune, and a note was left near Sans’ place. It read,

_“Sans– I had to go early into work today, but no worry! I will be home as soon as possible. (I wasn’t sure what you wanted for breakfast so I made oatmeal, but there are eggs and cereal available too!)_

_Love,_

_The Great Papyrus (Nyeh heh heh!)”_

Sans smiled a little, a bittersweetness in his heart. Papyrus really liked his job as a police officer. The local police department had been eager to accept monsters, partially to avoid bad publicity, and also to help get rid of the occasional spikes of crime in the area. What human would want to be caught red handed by a monster, right? Of course, Papyrus was mostly just patrolling for speedsters in the city and hadn’t had any major crime stops yet, but the way he saw it, he was essentially a royal guard now. Which was both a delightful and terrifying concept, but Sans liked seeing him happy.

Picking up the note, he found that on the back it said, _“PS, you should probably keep your window closed when it rains.”_ Sans swore. He’d forgotten about that. Hopefully Papyrus didn’t think too much of it. _“PPS, I think Alphys is stopping by to drop off your new parts for your moped or something, around noon. Try to wash your shirt before then, brother!”_

So the ol’ Alphy was coming over. He took a few bites of his oatmeal before his phone buzzed. Had he slept with it in his pocket? It buzzed again, and he pulled it out. It was Alphys.

**-hey sans! ^^**

**-sup**

**-did pap tell u i was coming over? :D**

**-yup**

**-oh good!! (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ im bringing over that moped upgrade u wanted, but hey, if u want i can hang around a bit >:3c**

**-sounds good**

**-（　´∀｀）oh… uh, is it ok if i bring mettaton with me? i like just upgraded his motor skills and depth perception and i need to keep an eye on him :P**

“Ugh…” That guy? Really?

**-yeah sure**

**-Great! :DDDD**

**-cya then**

**-cya!**

The oatmeal in front of him no longer held his interest. Just gray sludge with brown sugar and raisins. Half cold. Not very appetizing. He set it aside, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. It was nine in the morning and he still felt drained from last night. He itched for another smoke, but didn’t want to risk stinking up the apartment, especially not before Alphys got here. If it weren’t for her various obsessions, she’d definitely catch on quick. But she didn’t. Letting out a massive yawn, Sans stretched and shuffled to his room. At the very least he needed to change his clothes. Something more comfortable, like the turtleneck and sweater he usually wore.

Glancing out his bedroom window, he saw it was still raining, but his window was closed now. Had Papyrus closed it? Probably. He groaned inwardly, guilt crawling through his bones. He hated keeping secrets from Papyrus, but he also hated seeing him disappointed, especially in him. It was the lesser of two evils, he supposed. Maybe someday Papyrus would know. Maybe someday he’d tell him about the visions, the aching, the smoking, everything. He hoped it’d never come to that though. Not really. After changing into his regular clothes, throwing his shirt on the floor and hanging Toriel’s up on a hanger, he opened his window, deciding to risk it. He rested his head on his hands, cigarette perched in his mouth, watching the rain and people walking by down on the streets and alleys. He blinked, and a vision washed over him like a tidal wave.

Sans stood in the underground: Snowdin. At least that’s what he thought. There was snow everywhere. He couldn’t see anything but snow. So, so cold. He’d never been this cold. He was so cold his bones were ice. The more he tried to move, the more it all hurt. It hurt too much… the snow fell, gathering around him like rushing water, restraining him. Snow drifts tumbled through the air, and suddenly hands rose from the snow, approaching him. He tried to burn them away, but his fire froze, it was so cold. A hand grabbed his arm, another grabbed a rib, a leg, another rib, another arm– he cried for help, but no one came. A hand grabbed his jawbone and pulled. They all pulled, tearing him apart, leaving him a pile of bones trapped in the snow.

But they weren’t done.

Now the hands took his bones and pulverised them, turning him into ash, dust, mixing him with the cold, cold snow. The void overtook him again, non-white glaring at him with harsh disapproval. He was dead. How many times had he died? Too many. He’d seen himself, been himself, dead, dying, a failure. Each and every time, it was terrifying. And in this state of death, he heard bells. Bells, bells, chiming with an uneasy sorrow through his dust.

Sans awoke with a start, still leaning on his window sill, the nub of a cigarette sticking out of his mouth at an awkward angle. He was so startled at waking out of death that he stumbled backwards off of his bed, nub falling out of his mouth, and he bumped his head with a loud jolt. His vision spun for a second before he realized the doorbell was ringing. If he’d had a heart, he was sure it’d be pounding in his head. His eyes focused in and out, on the ceiling, the space in front of him. His head ached as if someone was crushing it. The doorbell rang again. Knees shaking, Sans got up, flicked what was left of the cigarette out the window, and walked to the door.

Was it noon already? More guilt spread through Sans’ bones. He’d been asleep for three hours. Standing up, he sighed and opened the door. Alphys stood there with a toothy grin, having just finished saying something to Mettaton, who seemed just as annoyed as Sans felt.

“Hello Sans!”

“Sup.”

The reptilian lady bustled in, saying something about how excited she was to show him the new features for his moped and how it would be completely street legal, well, 95 percent street legal, but it’s nothing to worry about. She also said something about the anime she’d brought, but Sans couldn’t really hear her from the next room. Mettaton, arms crossed, continued to stand outside.

“ _Sans,”_ his robotic voice huffed. He was trying to be aloof.

“Mettaton.”

“Are you going to invite me in, darling? Or do I have to stand out here for the next hour?”

“Be my guest.” Sans was completely out of the way, but he knew Mettaton was having trouble judging how far the doorway was from his head. He was taller than the doorway, and it was clear he didn’t want to look clumsy and bump his head.

“You coming in, tin can? I can’t keep the door open all day. Heat bill, ya know.”

Mettaton’s face made all sorts of strange expressions before he sighed, stooped down as low as he could and wobbled through the doorway. Dang. Sans had wanted to see him hit his head. Oh well. Closing the door, Sans wondered how long this little visit would be.

 

The three sat on the couch, two small monsters and one very tall robot making for a humerus sight. Ever since they’d escaped the underground, Alphys had spent a lot of her free time catching up on all the new anime and cartoons free to her. Even the live-action shows were fascinating to her. Sans didn’t mind joining her, although to be honest he didn’t really care for psychoanalyzing everything the way she did. He had to admit, any sort of TV was a nice distraction and he enjoyed seeing Alphys happy. Sans forgot the title of what they were watching today, and he was a little distracted by his most recent vision, and by the fact that he was smooshed in between a pudgy lizard and a giant robot. That was a little uncomfortable. Especially considering Mettaton kept on accidentally spazzing his arms due to the new upgrades.

“Hey Mettaton, why don’t you walk around a bit?” Alphys said, after a particularly bad spazz had left Sans with an even worse headache. “It might help the process go faster.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to intrude on our dear Sans’ privacy.”

“Just don’t break anything,” Sans said, rubbing his head.

Mettaton stood up in a flash and a smile, voice booming, “Many thanks, gorgeous!”

Sans suddenly didn’t have a very good feeling about him wandering the apartment, but it was too late now. Alphys turned off the TV, and stood up too.

“Well, it’s about time we got to your moped. Or would you rather wait a bit longer?”

He groaned inwardly, but agreed. Why’d they have to leave the robo-tastrophe alone? Oh well. What’s the worst that could happen? Might as well get this over with. “Yeah, I’ll show you to the parking garage.” The walk there was sweet and short, and they passed a few friendly monsters and humans. Upon reaching where his moped was usually parked, however, they found that it was gone. All sorts of panicked ideas ran through his mind before he remembered Papyrus had forgotten to take it out of his car! Sans swore.

“Oh, that’s fine, it’s not that difficult to install by yourself. I can just give you the parts.”

“I know. Urgh… I just… I dunno. Wish I’d remembered.”

Alphys gave him a sympathetic pat. “It’s fine, really. Just means more time for anime!” She gasped. “Oh my gosh, have you heard there’s a third Kissy Cutie Mew Mew? I haven’t been able to find it, but I think could totally download it off the human internet!”

“Nice.”

They continued walking back to his apartment, trotting briskly through the biting air. Hopefully Mettaton hadn’t demolished anything yet.

“Oh, Papyrus told me you had a job interview. How’d it go?”

Not this again. “Fine.”

“Cool! I know when I was first contracted by NASA, I was a trainwreck! But, I dunno… ever since we left the underground I’ve felt a lot more confident.”

“Cool.” He wished he could say the same.

“Yeah. Where are you looking for a job at?”

“Cafe, called Caffee. I think they want me to be a waiter. I dunno.” He kicked a pebble as they walked. To be honest, he liked the idea of having a job… but he had no idea if human jobs were any different from monsters’, or what he even had to do as a waiter. What sort of people would he have to deal with? Could he do it? That was the part that stressed him out the most.

“Awesome! I think Undyne told me about that place. Real monster-friendly. That’s so cool…” She continued to chat about whatever, but Sans stopped listening. He felt a little out of it right now. What if they never called back? It had almost been 24 hours. Was that normal? Maybe they were just busy. He sighed. They weren’t going to call him back. He felt it in his bones. Why would they? He showed up late in soiled clothes and out of breath. He wouldn’t even hire himself.

A shudder wracked his spine suddenly, stopping him in his tracks. He had the very distinct feeling someone was watching him. His head whirled around, but there was nothing. Just the empty pathway leading to his apartment building, a few leaves blowing in the wind.

“Sans? What is it?”

“N… Nothing. Let’s just check on Mettaton.”

When they reentered the apartment, Mettaton had himself spread across the couch in a seductive manner, one of Papyrus’ cooking magazine’s in his clutches. Sans wondered if it was worth it to ever use the couch again. He thought not.

“Hello beauties! I do believe my system is functioning marvelously now. Care for another round of…” He paused dramatically, swinging his legs in the air. “Anime?”

Alphys giggled. “Sure, we can watch another episode. I mean, if that’s okay with Sans?”

He shrugged. He could use another half hour of zoning out. He honestly had nothing better to do. Why not?

“Great!” Alphys hopped on the couch, tail flicking cheerfully. Sans decided that this time he’d sit on the floor rather than in between them. The flashing colors and giant swords were enough to distract him from his thoughts, but it was cut short when Alphys had to excuse herself to use the restroom. That left Sans and Mettaton in a somewhat awkward silence.

“Sans, dear, how have you been adjusting to life up here?” The robot crooned out of nowhere. The question took Sans by surprise, and he gave Mettaton a weird look before answering.

“...Fine, I guess.”

“Oh? And how about your darling brother?”

“Good. What’s it to ya?”

“Oh, no reason, no reason at all…” Sans wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. He was feeling increasingly uncomfortable, noticing how close Mettaton’s leg was to his shoulder. “I was just wondering, dear, about these.”

Sans froze when a half-empty pack of cigarettes was dangled in front of his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I hoped you enjoyed! If you have any comments or suggestions for the story, feel free to comment. The more comments I get, the more likely I am to finish this story. :3


	3. No Surprise

Before he could stop himself, Sans snatched the pack, stuffing it into his pocket as fast as he could. ‘Way to look guilty,’ he thought with dread, hands shaking in his pockets. Whirling on the reclining robot, he stood up fuming (almost literally) bones rattling. “I told you to stay out of my stuff!” ‘You’re just digging yourself deeper man,’ he scolded himself inwardly. He knew there was no doubt in Mettaton’s mind that the cigarettes belonged to him.

“My dear, you said,” His voice turned into a recording of Sans’, sending shivers down his spine, “‘Just don’t break anything.’”

Sans groaned, collapsing back on the floor and burying his face in his hands. If Mettaton knew, everyone would know. He saw his life crumbling before him. Papyrus would hate his bones, Toriel would be disgusted, everyone would leave him. Alone, all alone. All because of this stupid robot. He clenched his fists, anger burning in his chest. That bastard was just watching him in his turmoil! Staring at him, sadistic son of a–

A gloved hand rested on his shoulder. Mettaton was looking down at him, his face somewhat… concerned? “Darling… if you don’t want me to say anything, all you have to do is ask.”

Sans shrugged the hand off, suspicious. “Please don’t touch me.” He’d had too many disturbing visions involving Mettaton for him to ignore his personal space.

“Sans. Please, enough of this drama. If you have an addiction, that’s your business. I’m just… looking out for a friend.”

“Drama? Friend? I cannot believe–”

The toilet flushed and a door slammed down the hall. Sans’ voice was quiet and choked. “Just… please don’t tell Papyrus. Or anyone. Please.”

Mettaton smiled with what looked like sympathy, though his eyes seemed amused. “My lips are sealed, gorgeous.”

 

Sans found himself lying face-down on the floor. An hour had passed since Alphys and Mettaton had left. The thick carpet smelled like the past residents, with their dirt, spills, and slight mold. He’d been assured that it was clean, but it sure didn’t seem very clean. On most days Sans liked napping on the floor near the heating vent, even if the carpet reeked. It was warm and relatively soft. Here he could listen to the air moving through the vents, music pounding a few rooms away, muffled talking in various apartments. Remnants of rain dribbled down the roof, spattering out of the clogged gutters. Sans pulled his hood over his head, squeezing his eye sockets shut. He was petrified. Mettaton knew. How could Sans trust that he’d keep his secret? For all he knew that scrap-metal show host would tell the world about him this afternoon. Sans felt sick, his headache growing worse and worse with every thought that passed by. The heat from the vent wasn’t warming him up. He felt frozen where he lay.

Pulling the hood tighter, Sans curled himself into a ball. He wanted to scream. Punch something. Anything. He wanted to smoke, but he knew Papyrus would be home soon. He groaned, a terrible feeling in his ribcage. What would he do if Papyrus found out? What would Papyrus do? How could he live with himself? He was a filthy liar. His fist hit the floor, restraining tears. He wanted to sleep, but he didn’t want to see himself die. He didn’t want to see his brother die. He didn’t want to see Toriel, Undyne, Alphys die. Heck, he didn’t even want to see Mettaton die. Tears fell. He wept and wept and wept. He kept on crying, even when he heard Papyrus enter, even when his brother found him and hugged him and tried to comfort him. ‘How much longer will this go on?’ he thought, burying his face into his brother’s shoulder. He refused to break his brother’s heart anymore than he already was. He couldn’t know. Not about his visions, his smoking, his anything. But, god, he hated lying to him.

“... Sans?” He heard his brother’s voice whisper when he couldn’t cry any more. He sniffed in response, not looking at him.

“Sans.” Papyrus’ voice sounded hurt.

He sniffed again. “Yeah?”

“Do you want some hot cocoa?”

Sans gave a wan smile despite the empty feeling in his chest. “Sure, bro.”

 

Papyrus didn’t ask about anything. He just said that he’d be there if Sans wanted to talk. Sans didn’t want to talk. They sat around their small table in the kitchen for the rest of the evening in silence, drinking hot cocoa, and snacking on some cheap cookies Papyrus had brought home. Sans’ headache wasn’t so bad anymore, but he couldn’t help but feel disgusting and grimy. How long had it been since he’d showered? He didn’t care to think about it. Sans almost laughed suddenly. Normally at this point, he’d be bugging Papyrus with jokes and cheap laughs, causing a minor outrage in his brother. Seemed he’d forgotten about that whole schtick.

“Hey Papyrus.”

“Hm?”

“Have I told you I’m reading this book? It’s pretty good.”

“Oh? What is it about?”

“Antigravity. It’s impossible to put down.”

“Oh, that’s good! I myself am reading a rather… SANS!”

Sans smiled a little. Just like old times.

 

The next day Sans woke up feeling numb. He was sitting at the table again. Papyrus hummed nearby, and Sans saw that he was getting some breakfast ready. If there was anything his brother could cook well, it was breakfast. Oddly enough, Papyrus’ worst dish seemed to be his favorite. It looked like breakfast today was eggs and toast. A cup of orange juice sat at both of their places, as well as a mug of tea. Sans stretched, trying to get some feeling in his bones.

“Good morning, brother! Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah.”

“Splendid! Oh!” He turned to him. “I am terribly sorry about your vehicle situation, I, great as I am, failed to realize your moped was still in my car. So! I took it upon myself last night to install Alphys’ upgrades to your moped!”

Oh boy. “Thanks bro.”

His brother beamed, turning back to his cooking. After serving the meal to both of them and sitting down, Papyrus gasped. “Wowie! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this, Sans!”

“What?”

“The police department gave me, the Great Papyrus, the intensive responsibility of speaking to the future generation about what the police do in our marvelous community. I even saw Toriel in my ventures!” He suddenly lowered his voice as if he were telling a secret. “That’s were I got the cookies from last night!”

“Nice,” He said through a jaw full of toast. Thank goodness the police department didn’t give him anything too dangerous to do. He shuddered to think what he would do if his brother were injured. He’d seen it too many times in his visions. Suddenly Sans’ phone buzzed. Before seeing who’d texted him, he realized he really needed to charge his phone. Then he saw it was Toriel.

-Hello dear! I was wondering if you had time to pick Frisk up this afternoon from school. I’ve asked Asgore and Undyne and Alphys but no one else seems to be available and I know Papyrus has a job. I have a student-teacher conference this afternoon, and I don’t want Frisk to miss their play date with their friend. ]:)

-Sure thing Tori

“Who is that?” Papyrus asked.

“Toriel wants me to pick Frisk up later for a play date–”

-Oh good! Perhaps after you drop them off, we could meet up at the mall? It’s someone’s birthday and I would like to get something for them. Maybe we could even see a movie if there’s time?

Sans nearly spat out his orange juice, hoping desperately that his cheekbones weren’t burning up. Was… was she asking him on a date? No, it couldn’t be, she just wanted help picking out a gift. Papyrus noticed his sudden silence.

“Is everything all right, brother?”

“I… Uh… I guess? T-Toriel asked if I could help her at the mall… and maybe c-catch a movie.”

“Wowie! That sounds like fun. Do you know what movie you’re going to see?”

“Uh… no.”

“I heard that Mettaton recently produced a movie… perhaps you could see that!”

“Heh, maybe…” ‘Nope, that is not something that’s going to happen.’

-Hello?

Oops, he’d forgotten to respond.

-heh, sounds like fun :)

-Lovely! We can meet at the mall? 3:00?

-sounds good.

Sans leaned back in his chair, still in a daze. Did that just happen? Just like that? One second he was numb and empty, and the next he felt warm and happy. What? Was he dreaming? Was this some sick, twisted vision? It didn’t feel like one. He hoped desperately it wasn’t one. He smiled. He was actually excited. Really, really excited for one of the first times since he’d left the underground. Excited jitters ran through his bones like electricity. He was both ecstatic and terrified. What if he said something stupid? What if the movies were full? What if they didn’t have time to see a movie? What if they had to see that godawful Mettaton movie? So many ‘what ifs’ ran through his head that he couldn’t move for a good couple of seconds.

“Whelp, as much as I’d love to stay, dear brother, my duties call!” Papyrus said, clearing his place. “Feel free to give me a call anytime!”

“Uh… w-will do.” Sans’ head was spinning. He really really hoped Papyrus had upgraded his moped correctly. If not, he was kinda stuck. What was he going to wear? More importantly, what sort of jokes would he tell? Toriel seemed to like his jokes. Maybe he could base his jokes off of whatever movie they were watching. He laughed nervously at himself. Man, did he need to chill.

 

“Sans!” Frisk yelled, running out of the old school building amidst the other kids, monster and human alike. Many parents waited outside in the sunny fall afternoon, and Sans felt a little out of place here. There weren’t as many other monsters as he thought there’d be. It seemed this school had originally been an all-human school, but was trying to ease into the new monster-filled lifestyle. He couldn’t help but feel it had something to do with avoiding bad publicity, though he told himself he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. He was wearing his usual outfit, but for the kid’s sake he wore a helmet. He also wore a scarf since it was so cold out, though he could barely feel it in his sudden good mood. He was beaming.

“Hey kiddo,” Sans said, handing a helmet to them. He’d taken a shortcut to Toriel and Frisk’s house (with Toriel’s permission of course) and picked it up for them. “Get ready, we’ve gotta scoot.”

Frisk giggled, Sans helping them get buckled into the moped. Alphys’ upgrades had been installed perfectly and definitely saved Sans on money and gas. He had a sneaking suspicion, however, that there were probably parts of it that weren’t very orthodox, especially considering there was a new button with a picture of what looked like a disco ball on it. Hopefully he’d find the functions out in as inconspicuous a manner as possible.

“Heard you got a play date today, kid,” Sans said as the little moped zoomed off and merged into traffic. Frisk was hugging onto him from behind, face buried into his jacket to shield their face from the biting wind.

“Yup! Kid is coming over and we’re gonna play with their action figures!”

“Nice.”

“Mom said you were going to help her at the mall!” Frisk yelled over the sounds of traffic.

“Heh, yup. We’re looking for a gift.”

“Ooh! Can you buy something for me? Pretty please?”

He laughed, stopping at a red light. “You’re killin’ me kid. I don’t even have a job.”

“Aw.”

Turning around, he winked dramatically. “I’ll put a good word in for ya with Tori, though.”

“Yay!” They gave him a big hug, squeezing as tight as their little arms could. Suddenly there was a pause, hug loosening. “Sans?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“I don’t like being an ambassador.”

Sans glanced back at them again, concerned. That was… random. “How come?” They didn’t say anything but Sans felt them shrug, face buried harder into his back. This wasn’t the usual Frisk. He understood though. Even if the kid had saved the entire underground, they were still just a kid. Kids weren’t meant to be followed by the press, or questioned, or prodded, or treated like an adult. Frisk was in a difficult situation. As cautious as Sans was of them, he felt for the kid. Maybe someday they could be a kid full-time. Maybe.

The light turned green and Sans moved forward with the rest of traffic. A loud motorcycle sounded behind him, standing out against the rest of the other car motors. Sans could barely hear Frisk say something above it.They pointed out a street performer as they zoomed by. For a moment Sans wondered if he could be a street performer. Telling puns? Being a monster? Lighting things on fire? It didn’t seem like his kinda thing. He didn’t really know what his kinda thing was anyway. Maybe someday he’d find out, but today he was just planning on having a nice time and not worrying about the future.

 

Arriving at Toriel’s house, Frisk barrelled towards the door, leaving Sans to wonder why there was another car in the driveway. Who else could be here? Maybe it was Monster Kid? That didn’t make much sense though– the car was really big. Too big for a couple of lizards. Frisk was jumping up and down by the door, waiting for Sans.

“Sans, hurry up! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”

“Heh, just a second kid. Gotta find the spare key… here it is.” But when he tried the door it was already unlocked. Figures, the person parked in the driveway must have known how to get in too. Who was it?

They entered the house, Frisk running to their room with a smile and a gleam in their eye. Sans walked into the kitchen, hearing a kettle brewing. Before he could react, he was met with a giant mass of white fur and floral print. ‘Asgore?’ The ex-king was humming a tune and looking through the cupboards, back to him.

“Asgore?” Sans blurted out, and the ex-king jumped, horns scratching the ceiling.

“Oh dear…” His brassy voice filled the room, and he gingerly tried making the scratches on the ceiling less noticeable. “Oh, uh, hello Sans.”

“Uh… hello. Um. What’re you, uh, doing? Heh.” Wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say, but close enough. He was still getting over the shock of seeing the ol’ Fluffybuns.

“Oh! I’m making tea. Care for a cup?”

“N… No thanks. I, uh, have to be, uh, somewhere… Why are you here?”

“Oh! Oh. Well… Toriel asked me to keep an eye on Frisk when you dropped them off. I wasn’t planning on staying very long– their play date should be here any minute.”

“Oh.” The air was filled with an awkward silence, kettle bubbling and spurting. Frisk could be heard a few rooms away, running around their room and gathering toys to play with.

“I, um… I’m gonna check on the kid.”

“Ah, yes, good idea. I will, um, stay here. Tend to the tea.”

Sans got out of there as fast as he could, freaking out a little internally. That was a surprise. And weird. He didn’t even know Toriel and Asgore still talked. He guessed that it made sense, though whenever the topic of Asgore came up Toriel grew stern and cold. Needless to say, they didn’t talk about him much.

Frisk was sitting in the middle of their floor, brushing the mane of a horse-like toy that looked like it had been altered by Toriel.

“Hey kid.”

They turned to look at Sans, smiling. “Hello! Wanna play?”

“I can’t, I have to leave in a bit. You okay with Mr. Fluffybuns looking out for ya until Kid gets here?”

They paused. “Asgore’s here?”

“Yeah, he’s making tea–”

Sans stopped and stared, realizing Frisk had started sobbing uncontrollably, hugging their toy close to their chest. He panicked a little and crouched down beside them, putting a hand on their shoulder. What was wrong? Had he said something? Did Asgore have something to do with this? Maybe they were just stressed. Honestly Sans had no idea what he was doing or supposed to be doing. He didn’t know if jokes would help at all. He kinda thought not.

“Hey, kid. It’s all right, everything’s fine,” He said. He wasn’t really sure if that was the case, but that was what he told himself when he freaked out. A few minutes passed before their sobs turned to sniffles, eyes red and bleary.

“Do you wanna talk?” He asked, voice soft.

They shook their head, but seemed to be thinking about it. After a particularly loud sniff, they said, “I… I didn’t want to fight.” Sans smiled a little, hugging the kid closer. This kid, this sweet, little kid had gone through so much. Why couldn’t they just have a normal life? Why were they cursed with the fears of fighting and responsibility? They buried their face on his chest, hugging him as tight as they could.

“If you hadn’t fought him we wouldn’t be here. It’s all behind us, Frisk. Nobody’s blaming you for anything.”

“I know… I just…” They seemed at a loss for words. “I feel bad.”

“You know what? Everyone feels bad sometimes. That’s okay. That’s normal.” He wished he could say that to himself and believe it. “Do you think you’re going to be okay, kid?”

They took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah–”

The doorbell rang, Frisk’s demeanor quickly brightening, and they ran out of the room in a flash. Sans was left to wonder what all that was about. Clearly the kid was going through something. He shook his head, standing up and heading out. It probably wasn’t his place to know. Deciding not to worry about it (at least, not now), he waved goodbye to the kids and headed out. Despite all of this, he still had Toriel to meet.

 

“Sans, dear, do you think this would make for a nice gift?” Toriel said, holding up a fluffy blue scarf with a white snowflake pattern. “I must admit I don’t know much about Mrs. Hill or her tastes. Perhaps a nice card would be better?”

The skeleton shrugged, following her as she wandered the store. The place was brightly lit, homey, and there were lots of cheap knick-knacks and holiday-themed goods. There was actually a pretty even mix of monsters and humans, which made Sans feel a little more at ease. In fact, the entire mall was evenly mixed. Maybe he should hang out here more often.

“Maybe you could give her one of those new reversible jackets they’re selling. I’m excited to see how they turn out.”

She chuckled, set the scarf down, and said with a wink, “I was thinking about getting her a camouflage shirt… but I couldn’t find any.”

Both of them laughing, they tried desperately to not attract the attention of the other store-goers. They walked down the aisles, laughing at each other’s jokes and noting the silly trinkets the store had to offer. Holding back laughter when they reached the card aisle, they couldn’t help but gather a few of their favorites and add them to Toriel’s basket. Sans even convinced her to get a little plush bird for Frisk. Eventually, Toriel settled on a little cat-like statuette made of glass for Mrs. Hill. Buying the items, they headed to the theatre.

Unfortunately, there were no good movies playing. Just a bunch of old human movies and Mettaton productions. Nothing that interested either of them. God, why did the humans like Mettaton so much? Sans just didn’t understand.

“Oh dear. That’s a shame.”

“Dang,” Sans said, freaking out a little. Had he gotten his hopes up for nothing? He’d been a little nervous all day, but that had been masked by excitement. Heck, he’d even taken a shower that morning! ‘That’s my luck for you,’ he thought, feeling dread ache in his bones.

“Oh well. Perhaps we could grab something at the food court before we part?” She snorted, pulling something out of her purse. “I brought coupons.”

“Sounds good.” ‘Phew, that was a close call.’

 

The food court was bustling, and smelled like all sorts of exotic spices and not-so-exotic greasiness. The lights were a little harsh, and they were everywhere, but nobody seemed to care. It was warmer in here than outside, and smelled delicious. Who’s gonna complain about a few lights? When first exploring the surface, Sans had been surprised that human food wasn’t that much different from monster food. They had the same basic spices and ingredients, but the humans had a lot more to offer food-wise. More ingredients, different ingredients, and weird people who put it all together. Papyrus had gone bonkers the first time he’d laid eyes on the pasta aisle at the local supermarket. His brother still frequented that place for pasta.

“So, Sans, have you heard back from that cafe yet?” Toriel asked, munching on a salad.

Sans prodded whatever the heck it was he’d ordered, (he couldn’t pronounce the name, but it had noodles and meat and vegetables) and shook his head. “No… I don’t think they’re going to get back to me.”

“Well, there’s still hope my dear. Perhaps they’ve been too busy… or not busy enough? I must say I have no idea how these things work.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.” Already he could hear Papyrus’ voice in the back of his head telling him to stop being a ‘negative nancy’. Time to change the subject. “The last time I had a salad, the waiter was shocked when I asked for my salad to be served naked. I explained, no dressing please.”

Toriel snorted, covering her snout in a desperate attempt to not burst out laughing.  She wiped a tear from her eye, and half-scolded him for the bad joke. They chatted for awhile, talking about their days, although Sans didn’t have much to say about his. Sans couldn’t help but admire her. She was confident, kind, caring, and just spectacular in general. It was easy for him to be around her. Not to mention she always laughed at his jokes. He was still a little confused about how she made him feel, but he continued to not think about it too hard. Suddenly he realized he was staring at her. Desperately hoping he wasn’t blushing, he abruptly found a piece of broccoli on his plate to be rather fascinating.

“Sans, you seem to have a gift for jokes. No wonder Frisk loves you so much.”

A nervous laugh escaped him as he tried to shrug it off. “Oh, uh, well… what can I say? I’ve always had a talented funny bone.”

“Okay, that one was bad.” She smiled at him. “How’s Papyrus doing?”

“Pretty good. He said he got some cookies from you when he was at the school.”

“Oh, right, I nearly forgot about that. Those are Frisk’s favorite cookies, but I thought I’d bring them in for the other children and guest speakers.”

“Cool. They were pretty good–”

Toriel’s phone buzzed. “Oh, pardon me, I need to see this…” Sans frowned as her brow furrowed. That couldn’t be good. “Oh dear. Frisk’s friend had to go home early, I really need to get home–”

“Say no more. It’s, uh, about time I got home too.”

“Thanks for understanding, dear.”

“Heh, no problem.”

They both stood up, gathering their things and walking towards the exit. It had begun to drizzle outside, air colder and harsh. Sans could barely feel it, walking beside Toriel. He couldn’t stop smiling. His day had actually been amazing. He actually felt decent for once. Toriel turned to him, stopping just before the sidewalk ended.

“I had a lovely time with you Sans.”

“Heh, me too.”

“We should do this again sometime.” If he’d had a heart it would’ve skipped a beat. “I’m afraid my schedule is full and inconsistent, but I will most certainly text you the next time I’m available.”

“Uh, cool! Me too. I mean, I don’t have a schedule, so, uh, I mean… yeah.”

She smiled. “I’ll see you later Sans.”

“S-seeya.”

 

The first thing Sans did when he got home was turn on the TV and lay down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t stop smiling. Today had been the best day of his life. Well, one of the best days, but the fact that he couldn’t stop beaming was a big deal for him. Sure, he usually plastered a smile on his face, but this was different. This felt genuine. Like he’d earned this smile. Sort of. Either way, Sans felt like the luckiest skeleton in the universe. He closed his eyes, soul ecstatic and happy. The TV droned on, babbling and creating a bubbly atmosphere. Someone in the apartment next door laughed. A bird sung outside.

In a flash of gray, it all turned to static. Sans saw mirrors. He was surrounded by them. They were everywhere. In any other circumstance, it would’ve been sort of pretty. But the dark, flitting shadows laughed and cracked and threw glass. Sans saw Papyrus in a mirror, confused and cowering and trying to be courageous. Sans ran as fast as he could but his legs felt weighed down by an enormity he couldn’t comprehend. He yelled, but it was too late. The mirror shattered, glass blackened and smoky. More mirrors, more glass, more of his friends. No, no, no, no, no! He saw Frisk shatter, Toriel splinter, Undyne crack, Alphys fragment. All the people he’d ever met, ever had a sliver of care for, gone. Hard, obsidian shards sitting at his feet. Only one mirror stood now. It was filled with static, oily-rainbows wavering on its surface. The weight on his legs was gone– too late. Sans still felt too slow. Ages passed before he reached the static-mirror. It towered above him, casting an eerie light down upon him. Where was he? What was this place? Why had all his friends died? Why was he alone? But he wasn’t alone. He could sense someone behind him. He couldn’t turn around. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t yell. His mind screamed at him to turn around, turn around, turn around! Something, someone, was getting closer. Each step sounded like a terrible drum. Closer, closer, closer, but all Sans saw was static. The static hissed at him, laughed at him, yelled at him. ‘No, no, no, no, no–’

The phone was ringing, Sans sitting up in a cold sweat. He was having a hard time catching his breath, but he stumbled to the phone anyway. Inhale… exhale… everything was fine. Reality was stable. Everything was fine. Safe. He was safe.

“H-hello?” He answered the phone, hoping he didn’t sound too freaked out.

“Hello! This is Shelby Owens. Is Sans there?”

‘Holy shit, no way,’ he thought for a second. “Uh, speaking.”

“Oh! We’re sorry for not getting back sooner, but we recently hired a few other people, and we’ve been pretty busy. When’s the soonest you can come in? We’d love to have you on the team.”

“Oh, uh… I don’t think I’m doing anything tomorrow.”

“Great! If you get here at six, we’ll have an hour to get you situated.”

“Cool. I’ll be there.”

“Awesome. We look forward to working with you! Ba-bye!”

“B… bye.”

Sans stood there, in shock, phone still in his hand. What had just happened? One second his friends were dying, the next he was… employed? This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.


	4. No Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, sorry this took so long to get to, I've been really busy lately. Hope you enjoy though!

The first day of work for Sans was hectic. He had very little idea what he was doing, though there were plenty of people telling him what to do and when to do it. Dan showed him around the kitchen first thing, just so he could get familiar with their process, eventually handing him off to Shelby and a few other staff members when they opened. He ended up at the cash register, with his hands full of early breakfast-goers. It wasn’t too difficult to keep his face cheery and welcoming considering he generally tried to smile no matter what he felt, so he had that going for him. He’d always been pretty good at remembering things too, so taking orders was pretty straight-forward, though he’d never worked a cash register before and had to be shown how to use it a couple of times.

“Welcome to Caffee, what can I get for you today?” Sans said, countless times. At this point the breakfast rush was waning, people filing out in contented smiles and talk. The pair in front of him were a middle-aged human couple, and seemed surprised to see him.

“Oh, well…” They seemed uncomfortable. “Is Shelby… Shelby Owens here?”

“She’s busy in the back at the moment. Is there a problem?”

They looked at each other for a moment and the woman spoke up. “No, no… not at all. We were just wondering where she was. I would like one of the croissants with a mocha.”

“And I’d like the breakfast sandwich and a coffee.”

Sans punched it into the cash register and asked if that was it for today.

“Oh! We almost forgot about Steve. We’ll also have a blueberry muffin and a hot cocoa. And this is all to go.”

Adding the new items, Sans told them it would be a few minutes before everything was ready and they paid briskly. As they sat down at a table, Sans hoped they weren’t whispering about him. They hadn’t been the only humans who seemed wary of him. The human working behind the counter with him went about heating things up diligently, while Sans decided to wipe down the counter for the millionth time. The other human was a nice kid, though he seemed a little overly talkative. At first he’d been somewhat cautious of Sans, but had either grown used to him or decided he didn’t care. Sans wasn’t sure what to make of him. What was his name again? Allen? Allen or whatever also happened to be a bit clumsy and Sans had watched with bated breath as he served people, tripping over himself. Sans had no idea how he managed the floor, especially when it was busy. In fact, he’d already fallen a couple times. Sans felt bad for the kid.

The bell at the door jangled as another human walked in. Sans stood at attention, renewing his smile. His smile faltered a little, however, when he saw the aghast expression on the human’s face. “W-welcome to Caffee, what can I get for you today?”

The human still seemed at a loss for words, staring right through Sans.

“Uh… sir?” Sans felt his nerves beginning to break down. _‘Just keep smiling,’_ he told himself.

“You… you’re a skeleton.”

“Heh… make no mistake, I, uh, got the guts for the job regardless.” Maybe a pun would lighten the mood. It didn’t. _Fuck_. He didn’t seem to get it and was just staring at him and around the small establishment as if he thought he was the only one seeing Sans. Allen was busy collecting the couple’s order, and didn’t seem to notice the newcomer. “Can I please take your order?” Sans said, voice softer than he intended.

“How are you alive? How is that even possible?”

Sans’ smile dropped, feeling a rush of panic try to seize him. He couldn’t help it. Had this guy been living under a rock for the past year? _‘How was he alive?’_ What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“S-sir, is there anything off the m-menu that you want? W-we have a variety of–”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Nevermind. I guess I shouldn’t expect much conversation from a _monster_.”

Whatever had been left of Sans’ smile completely vanished. He struggled internally: how was he supposed to react to this? He was stuck. Should he say something? Talk back? Ignore? All he felt like doing was running away. He almost did too, if it hadn’t been for Allen.

Sans saw in a flash that Allen was heading towards the table where the couple was sitting, bringing them their order. He was a few tables away when, of course, his feet got caught and he went in for a faceplant. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion, but Sans was happy for the excuse to not respond to the man. Without another thought, Sans had Allen, the order, and a chair floating in the air, hand extended and a rush of energy tickling his bones. He set them down carefully, barely hearing the man in front of him exclaim something and back away a bit. Allen and the couple were completely shocked, though Allen had a ridiculous smile on his face whereas they seemed positively perturbed. Sans looked at the man, trying to renew his smile, even though his hands were shaking.

“Can I _please_ take your order, sir?”

Swearing, the man got out of there as fast as he could, knocking over a chair as he ran. Sans frowned, letting out a pent up breath. Was he really that scary? Why were they so freaked out by his magic?

“Dude. That was _awesome_ ,” Allen said, joining him at the counter and watching the couple leave in a flurry. “Why didn’t you say you could do that earlier?”

Sans shrugged, crossing his arms. “Didn’t think it was important.”

“Important?” Sans and Allen whirled around, seeing Shelby standing at the kitchen entrance. “What’s important?”

Before Sans could object, Allen blurted, “This guy can levitate shit!”

Shelby raised an eyebrow. “Really? Let me see.”

Sans shrugged, feeling incredibly stupid. They watched in astonishment as his blue aura surrounded the tip jar and shook it gently in the air. Shelby looked impressed. Allen was ecstatic. Sans felt uncomfortable. He was still getting over that guy’s rudeness.

“Huh. That’s pretty cool. You should be careful when you do anything with it, though. I’m going to be blunt: some humans don’t like magic. I don’t want to scare off too many customers, okay?” Shelby said, staring at the tip jar as it settled back on the counter. Sans nodded. That made sense. Sort of. He guessed he would be scared of magic too if he didn’t have it.  

The rest of his shift was uneventful. But Sans felt deflated. Tired. He just wanted to go home. Take a nap. Turn on the TV and not think. He couldn’t run away from his work though. He was still trying to make a good impression, not to mention Papyrus would be disappointed. Soon enough, however, he was dismissed.

The first thing he did after his shift ended was buy another pack of cigarettes and smoke behind an empty apartment building in town. No matter what he did, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Dread, excitement, confusion– he had no idea what he was feeling. Part of him was happy he’d made it through the day. The other part was terrified for some reason. How many people had he come in contact with? Far more than he was used to. Too many. He shuddered, pulling his sweater closer to shield himself from the cold. Why had that human gotten to him so much? He knew there were humans like that… “Ugh.” He was wiped out. Focusing on breathing, Sans closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. It was only one in the afternoon and Sans felt like he could sleep for the next week.

His eyes shot open. A strange feeling spread over him. Was he… smiling? Smiling, just a little. He couldn’t believe it. He’d actually accomplished something. As hectic as it had been, he’d survived. He almost had fun. Well, not really fun, but he didn’t hate it. As much as he’d hate to admit it, most of the people were nice, both the customers and staff. Now that he thought about it, his jitters seemed more and more to be the effect of excitement. This was new. He didn’t want to think too much about it, but he couldn’t stop! He breathed in and out, taking a shortcut to where his moped was parked and made his way home through the biting wind.

There sure were a lot of motorcycles around this place. Sans could barely hear himself think over the sounds of motors, but things quieted down the closer he got to the apartments. He parked, moped stuttering to a stop. He was still wary of the new buttons that had been installed. Maybe he should text Alphys about the upgrades sometime. He walked past an apartment with a crying baby, up a flight of stairs, and past the room that always seemed to be playing music. Out of the cold, into the warmth of their sauce-scented apartment. He was surprised to see Alphys, Frisk, and Toriel chilling on the couch. The sound of Undyne and Papyrus ‘cooking’ in the kitchen was his second surprise. Sans shot a weary smile when they all looked at him with beaming faces.

“Hey guys.” Sans said after they all got up to greet him. “What’s the occasion?”

Toriel laughed, incredulous. “Occasion? My dear, we’re here to celebrate your first day on the job!”

“Y-yeah! We all thought you’d like to be around your friends.” Alphys said, adjusting her glasses. Frisk danced around, holding Sans’ hands and giggling. They all jumped when a loud bang erupted from the kitchen, followed by a stream of muffled profanity and flustered babbling. Undyne marched into the living room, followed by Papyrus who was covered in ‘tomato sauce’. A large clove of garlic had lodged itself in his eye socket, making for an amusing sight. He completely forgot about it when he saw Sans though.

“Sans! Oh dear, I am afraid that our surprise celebratory spaghetti isn’t going to work out tonight. Fear not! I, the Great Papyrus, will, uh… order pizza. Nyeh-heh.”

“Heh, sounds good to me bro.”

“It better,” Undyne snarled, whapping the back of Papyrus’ head and catching the clove in her fist. She crushed it, grinning ear to ear and glaring at Sans with the intensity of a thousand suns. “Because we’re _all out of noodles.”_

With Undyne it wasn’t always clear when she was being sarcastic or trying to be intimidating, not to mention her grasp on humor wasn’t great. Sans figured it was best to ere on the side of caution and act intimidated. He laughed nervously.

She howled with laughter, giving Papyrus a hearty pat on the back. “C’mon, lighten up, knuckleheads! Let’s order some pizza!”

“Already done, Undyne,” Alphys said from the couch, holding up her phone with a quirky smile. “U-uh, I mean, I still need to know what everyone wants, but I, uh, pulled the app up.”

“Great! Time to give Sans the best First Day of Work After the Underground Party ever!”

Sans was happy to see his friends, but man, was he exhausted. “Heh, thanks guys… you, uh, really didn’t need to–”

“Nonsense!” Papyrus exclaimed, hurrying Sans to sit on the couch. “We’re happy to throw a party if it means you’re happy, Sans!”

Sans sunk into the couch, listening to the cheerful babble of his friends. Toriel and Papyrus sat on either side of Sans, Alphys sitting in Undyne’s lap on the floor. Frisk played with one of their toys nearby. Pizza was ordered, and just as Alphys began a rant about how they should watch such and such an anime instead of whatever movie Papyrus had in mind, the doorbell rang.

It was Mettaton. Sans groaned inwardly, but didn’t want to be a party pooper. He was still surprised the metal man hadn't blabbed yet.

“Hello beauties! Sorry I’m late, I was caught up by the paparazzi.” He let out a mechanical laugh. “Such lovely folks, hm? Either, way, let’s get this party started.”

Mettaton sat on the floor, letting Frisk crawl into his lap. Conversation continued, and Sans watched as everything seemed to go by without him. Honestly he was too tired to participate. He felt out of it. He wasn’t sure what to feel. His day had been so… bizarre. Different. How could he focus on any one thing? The pizza came, the movie started, conversation hushed.

Sans’ mind was elsewhere. Why had that human been so rude? _“How are you alive? How is that even possible?”_ Distorted words played through his head, rushing over him like a river, running through him like water. He felt like he was being thrown around by a terrible coursing force, unable to even breathe. Drowning, rushing, dying, over and over again, dark water invading his skull the further down he sunk. Pinpricks of light caught on bubbles, drifting from his eye sockets to the unknown above. Despite the pain of not being able to breathe or feel… the bubbles reminded him of stars. It was almost peaceful. Something told him to let go of everything. To leave everything behind. And he would feel peace for eternity. Just forget, just leave, just release his cares for anything or anyone. No one will care. You’ll be happy, it said. You can leave. Nobody would blame you. No need to fear. Fear isn’t on the other side. Only peace. Peace…

Sans felt lulled as if by a siren song, but a sudden snap broke the peace. Air exploded from what remained of his skull, and he saw the fragments drift down, blue fire desperately trying to spark. Panic was all Sans knew. He was dead but he didn’t feel it. Instinct kicked in, and he fought to push against the rushing dark force. His soul fell away from him, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He pushed up, trying to breathe, trying to feel, trying, trying, trying whatever he could. Something pushed back, but he pushed harder. He could feel the surface nearing. Just a little further…

He gasped, sitting up straight, eyes sockets alert and fists tight. He forgot where he was for a moment, confusion washing over him and quickly morphing into embarrassment. Everyone was looking at him, the movie still playing. Papyrus and Toriel seemed the most concerned, Toriel with a paw on his shoulder. Undyne looked confused, and Mettaton’s expression was impossible to read. Frisk almost looked scared. Sans blinked, and forced a shaky smile.

“Sans, are you okay?” Toriel asked in a hushed tone.

“Y-yeah. I, uh… f-fell asleep. Um…” Everything in his body told him to run away, go away, don’t let them see him like this, leave! “I, uh… excuse me.” He got up and rushed down the hall before anyone could ask anything. The bathroom door was shut– perhaps a little too hard– and locked. He slumped against the wall, pulling his hood over his head. What was happening to him? These visions were showing up more often, uninvited. Out of the blue… they weren’t normally this close together. They didn’t make any sense! None of this made any sense! He tried to steady his breathing, stop his shaking. He stood up and turned on the sink, running warm water over his hands. The feeling in his phalanges had left, but the water helped. For little bit. It only reminded him of his visions, and he shut it off with a muffled sob. He buried his head in his arms, sitting back down. Inhale… exhale… everything was fine. Was it though? Was everything fine? Was he safe? He didn’t feel safe. He didn’t feel fine. What did he feel? Scared? Sad? Confused? Worried? … Or nothing at all?

There was a knock on the door. “Sans, are you sure you’re okay?” It was Papyrus.

“Yeah. I… I’m fine.” He didn’t want to lie, but he couldn’t tell Papyrus the truth. He didn’t even know what the truth was.

Papyrus was quiet.

“I’ll be back in a sec, bro. N-no need to pause the movie.”

A pause. “... Okay.” He heard his brother’s footsteps recede. Sans inhaled. Exhaled. Closed his eyes. Opened them and stood up. He was being ridiculous. Staring at himself in the mirror, he held up his head and plastered a winning smile on his skull. From here on out, everything was back to normal. He was his normal, laid-back, joke-cracking self. He sighed, walking back to the living room. If he could lie to the world, he could lie to himself. Believing the lie would be a completely different issue.

The next few days were busy. Shelby had said that the colder out it was, the more customers were likely to come in. And baby, it was getting cold outside. The early mornings were covered in frost, visible puffs of air accompanying anyone brave enough to venture outside. Frisk was getting excited about snow, and Sans had to admit he was pretty pumped too… minus the whole freezing thing. Sans was absolutely frigid every morning on the way to work– he didn’t want to bug Papyrus for a ride, so he was left with his moped.

Besides his first day at work, things had been pretty okay. Sure, there were still a few humans that shot him uneasy glances from time to time, but they didn’t get in his business or anything. In fact, they seemed to leave him alone the most, rushing to give their order and get out as fast as possible. Allen kept on insisting he use his magic to impress people (most of whom Sans assumed to be his friends), but Sans usually declined unless it wasn’t busy. He couldn’t help but notice Shelby peeking out from time to time. Maybe he was just paranoid, but he had a feeling she was keeping an eye on him. For what reasons, he could only assume the worst.

The breakfast rush had just ended, and Sans found himself cleaning off the counters while Allen restocked some of the food on display. It was Friday, and Sans was looking forward to his first weekend after getting a job. Sleeping in sure sounded nice. Not to mention he’d get to see more of Papyrus. Maybe he’d even get Alphys to tell him what the new buttons on his moped did. He really didn’t want to find out what they did in the middle of traffic. He sighed, stretching his spine with a series of cracks. What happened to the days when he was happy? Where’d happy Sans gone and why did he leave in the first place? Sometimes he saw glimpses of happiness. But it always seemed to escape him in the end. He sighed. It was these damn visions. His visions scared his joy away.

 _“Hello, Sans._ ” A familiar voice shook Sans out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw, of all people, Grillby standing in front of the counter. How long had he been there?

“Grillbz! Hey, man, what’s up? What’re you doin’ ‘round here?”

 _“Word spread that you got a job. Thought I should say hello,”_ he crackled, adjusting his glasses slightly. What sounded like fire shifting escaped him. Sans smiled, recognizing the chuckle. _“I must say, it is strange seeing you on that side of the counter.”_

Sans shrugged. “Well, Grillby, I guess the tables have turned, huh? Can I get you anything?”

_“One of those sandwiches will do.”_

Sans punched in the order and was paid quickly. Allen, shaken by seeing what to him looked like a man on fire, was hesitant. But the fact that Sans was chummy with him seemed to shake him out of his confusion and he got on it right away.

_“There is something I wanted to tell you, Sans.”_

“Yeah? Lay it on me, bud.”

_“I’ve finally managed to open a new Grillby’s. It took some scrounging, and there are still a few adjustments that need to be made, but it’s open.”_

“Holy shit, that’s awesome. Where is it?”

_“Few blocks down, Serfas Street.”_

“Serfas? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Another chuckle, Allen cautiously handing Grillby his sandwich. _“I know. I have named it Serfas Grillby’s. Although I have not made a real sign yet, so we might spell it differently.”_

“Cool. I’ll make sure to swing by sometime.”

Seeing as there were no new customers or a line, Grillby continued. _“How are you liking your job?”_

“Oh, can’t complain. It’s a nice change.”

_“Speaking of change… you know what you can do now that you have a job?”_

“Uh… what?”

_“Pay your damn tab.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback I get is really helpful! I don't want to pressure commenting but advice really helps me push through to the end!


	5. No Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient guys, School's been very busy for me lately! I finally managed to work through my writer's block and finish this chapter. I hope you enjoy!

Sans woke up with a start, bones rattling as he gasped for breath. What had just happened? He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming, but he didn’t have a good feeling about it. Rubbing his eye sockets, Sans knew he wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep for awhile. So much for sleeping in. He rested his head back on the pillow, turning to look at his phone on the table nearby. It was three in the morning. _“Ugh…”_ A few minutes passed, Sans wondering what would happen if he left the warmth of his blankets. He was itching for a smoke. Another minute of ignoring the numbness in his skull and he decided to open his window. A small gust of freezing air chilled his skull, and he provided some warmth by lighting a cig and letting the smoke fill his bones. It was pitch black outside, save for the street lights and and a few lit windows on a couple buildings in the distance. He thought he heard a garbage truck a few roads down.

Inhale… exhale… Clouds blanketed the city, smoke and smog and other air pollution placed an oily tint on the sky.  

Inhale… exhale… Looking up, Sans thought he saw something sparkle.

Inhale… exhale… Wind whooshed through the streets and in between buildings. Sans shivered.

How much did Papyrus know already? His brother wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t blissfully ignorant. He was… naive. Hopeful. Happy. Everything Sans wasn’t. Sans hoped and prayed that Papyrus would never change. If he’d been given the choice to switch attitudes with his brother, there’d be no doubt in his mind he would reject that choice before it was given to him. He wanted his brother to be happy. And he was. Wish granted. Fate sealed.

Inhale… exhale… It was snowing.

Sans had lived a large part of his life in snow. He knew that snow was frozen water. He knew how it felt when snow lit upon his bones, how cold it was, how fun snowball fights were. How happy it made children, monster and human alike. But seeing the oncoming rush of snow, silently sparkling in the orange streetlights, mixing with the ugly smoke on his mouth, Sans didn’t know what to feel. All he knew was that he didn’t want to smoke anymore. Well, he did, but he wanted to stop too. Before he could think too much about it, he took the cigarette out of his mouth and squished it against the windowsill, flicking what was left away. What was left of the pack was thrown out the window, landing behind a dumpster. He sighed, half wishing he hadn’t done that.

“Sorry,” He whispered to the snow. The mysterious feeling in his ribcage dulled to a cold numbness as he shut the window and sat on the edge of his bed. How much longer would this last? What was ‘this’ anyway? His feelings? His non-feeling? His non-smoking? He shut his eye sockets tight, fists clenched. God, he was such a mess. That’s what he was feeling. Disgusting. Terrible. Ugly. Mean. His fingers clenched tighter, refusing to let tears pool in his eye sockets. Maybe he should just try to go to sleep. Escape. Maybe a vision wouldn’t tear him apart this time. Get away from this reality. Maybe no one would miss him. Flee…

He fell asleep, curled up in a tight bundle of bones and blankets and bad feelings. A blizzard swept by outside, covering the small city.

 

“Sans! Sans! Sans, you lazybones! Wake up!” Sans was jostled awake with a sputter as his brother burst into his vision, all smiles. Sans rolled over, covering his head with his pillow and groaning out an unintelligible protest. He was too tired to be functioning at this point. Maybe if he didn’t respond Papyrus would leave him alone–

“Sans, it _snowed_ last night!” Papyrus lifted him up to the window, smile reflecting in the glass. A lazy blink later and Sans was sitting on his bed, Papyrus rushing off doing God-knows-what and babbling about the snow. Papyrus liked snow. A lot. It reminded him of Snowdin, of their old home, of his childhood. Sans slumped back into his bed, not bothering to pull the covers back up. He was going to sleep in, damnit! He’d worked (actually worked!) for this. No one, not even his brother, would take this away. Okay, maybe he’d let Papyrus get him up later, but he just wasn’t feeling up to it. His energy levels were at an all time low, and he didn’t really care about the snow anymore. He groaned, memories of the cigarette pack falling with the snow. Why on earth did he do _that?_

He must’ve fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes next, he was sitting in Papyrus’ car. Papyrus was just leaving the parking lot, humming along with the radio.

“Good morning, brother! I would’ve woken you up but you were in a very deep sleep and did not wish to disturb you.”

“Bro… where are we going?”

“Toriel called! She said that Frisk wishes that I, the Great Papyrus, and you accompany them at the park. It seems that Toriel also wished to speak with you, but I told her you were sleeping.”

“Oh.” Sans suddenly felt dread in his bones. He hadn’t texted or spoken to Toriel since his ‘party’. So much for getting together again.

A soft hat was tossed onto Sans’ head, covering his eyes and surprising him.

“I brought a few things for you to stay warm while we’re at the park! Frisk warned me that we might be able to catch ‘colds’ now that we’re on the surface. I am not sure what a cold is exactly, but the way Frisk spoke of it, it did not seem pleasant.”

Sans chuckled, adjusting the hat so that he could see. As much as he felt dead inside, he couldn’t help but be touched by his brother’s concern. “I don’t think skeletons can catch colds, bro.”

“Well, you never know! Perhaps colds sneak up on you when you least expect it! You remember when Frisk nearly caught a cold. They were dreadful!”

“Heh, okay, okay. You got me.”

Sans slumped down into his seat, eye sockets drooping. To be honest, he didn’t really want to go to the park. He’d rather be in bed. He didn’t even want to get out of the car. It was warm and he was cold. It felt good… sort of. It was hard to feel anything right now.

“Oh! Sans, did you hear about the new Grillby’s? Ol’ Doggo was telling me about it yesterday.”

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah. Grillby stopped by Caffee yesterday and told me.”

“Wonderful! I thought you’d enjoy hearing that.”

“Yep. Should go there sometime.”

“Let’s hope their greasy foods have been replaced with something healthier!” There was a pause, human holiday music filling the empty space. “What, no jokes?” Papyrus said, elbowing Sans with a somewhat triumphant smile.

Sans shrugged. “Eh, I don't find health-related puns funny anymore, since I started suffering from an irony deficiency.”

“ _SANS!”_

 

They got the park just as the snow started up again. It had been snowing on and off for the entire car ride, but now it was a light dusting, merely covering the footprints of children who had already romped through the park’s fields. There were a few kids, mostly human, running around already. Frisk was one of them. Toriel was sitting at a bench nearby, bundled up in a large parka with a fluffy hood, and holding a steaming thermos. The bench seemed to be a bit too small for her, but there was enough snow around that it didn’t really matter. A few humans chatted a good distance away, seeming to ignore her.  The instant Papyrus stepped out of the car, Frisk squealed with delight and bounded towards him, followed by a few other kids who were intrigued by the newcomer in their midst. Sans willed himself out of the car and into the cold, wrapping a scarf around his neck. He was somewhat used to the cold, but surface cold was noticeably different from Snowdin’s cold. Snowdin didn’t have wind. And the snow up here was different. It felt more… organic up here. It was difficult to describe and Sans didn’t really care. He waved a timid hand at Toriel, who smiled and beckoned him over to sit by her.

“Hello dear!” Toriel said with a smile as he sat down next to her. The bench was really cold, but he ignored it.

“Hey. Um. I think I should apologize.”

She seemed concerned. “Oh?”

“Yeah, uh… I dunno. Sorry for not, uh, texting you at all this week.”

She laughed softly. Sans smiled a little. The lilt of her laugh always seemed to make him a little happier, if just for a moment. “Sans, I completely understand. You’re not to blame at all. You’ve been very busy with a new job, I’m sure it must be very overwhelming.”

That was one way to put it. “Heh, yeah.”

They watched as Papyrus was clobbered with snowballs and laughing kids. None of the human parents seemed too worried by the skeleton. It probably helped that Frisk was friendly with him. Sans wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d seen him on patrol or around town.

“Sans, I do hope you’re doing okay.”

“Heh…” Her comment took him by surprise. Did she know? Did she have any idea? “I’m doing fine, Tori. You shouldn’t worry about me.”

Papyrus had begun to act out a tale of how he had protected his people in the underground from a non-existent monster, stomping around while a few kids clung to his legs. Sans and Toriel both chuckled at the sight. Frisk threw a snowball squarely into the back of Papyrus’ head, nearly sending him sprawling. He indignantly sent a soft snowball back at the little kid, and the snowball fight resumed once more. Flying mounds of snow mixed with steaming puffs of breath as rosy cheeked kids ran and threw and laughed. Snow continued to fall.

Sans didn’t want to move, but when Toriel asked if he wanted to go for a little walk around the park, he agreed.

“This snowstorm sure showed up at a good time,” Toriel noted. “It’s the weekend and none of us have work to do.”

“I guess you could say it was white on time.”

Toriel hid a snort, bleating laughter escaping through her gloved hands. Sans chuckled.

“Oh, but I suppose for someone like you who lived in Snowdin, it’s snow problem.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Ice suppose snow.”

They couldn’t stop giggling as they walked carefully on the icy sidewalk. They came to a particularly slippery patch, and even Toriel’s rough padding on her feet didn’t help much.

“I don’t want to seem like a flake,” Sans said, slippers living up to their name. “But I think I need to sit down.”

Toriel laughed, and helped him over to the side of the sidewalk, where clumps of snow were gathered. The snow was very wet and they both knew they would be drenched and freezing when the got up, but for now it was warm while they were close. Toriel held up her thermos with a smile.

“Care for some hot chocolate? I made it myself. I used cinnamon to give it a little more warmth.”

“Sure.”

Papyrus and the kids were only laughs in the distance at this point. Sans could barely see their movement through the falling snow. It was snowing a lot more now. He shivered. They took turns taking sips from the thermos, huddling close to keep warm. The numbness in Sans’ soul felt like it was melting away, little by little, despite the cold. Toriel was talking, but Sans felt himself fading. Man, he was tired. He couldn’t feel the cold anymore. He huddled a little closer to Toriel, closing his eyes. She was so warm. So kind. He hoped she wouldn’t worry about him. She was so nice. She didn’t deserve to worry. Especially about him. He absentmindedly made a witty remark. He had a habit of doing that– waiting for keywords to pop up in conversations and whip out a silly one-liner. She laughed, he laughed. Kind laughter bounced around inside his skull. It felt empty when the laughter stopped.

Through the snow he saw the shadowy figure of Papyrus, not much more than a gray blur. Snow fell around him and the kids. The distant shape of Frisk stood a ways off from him and the other kids. An uneasy mist hung around Sans’ head. Where had the other kids gone? Why was Frisk no longer running around? Just Papyrus and Frisk. Something gleamed through the snow in Frisk’s hand. _No..._ The small figure approached the bigger, and Sans could only watch their every move, frozen and frantic. Was Toriel blind? Couldn’t she see what danger Papyrus was in? Didn’t she _care?_ Didn’t she care about her brother at all? Sans tried moving but he was trapped. Frozen in the cold, cold snow. He’d seen this too many times, he knew what was going on. Frisk would destroy his brother, dust strewn in the snow, all hopes for happiness gone. Sans felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Papyrus stood up from making a snowball. He looked around, wondering where the children had gone. Sans tried to move forward, but it felt like he was being held back. Frisk kept moving closer, distance shortening, time slowing. He had to save Papyrus. He couldn’t just sit here and let him die at the hands of that devil. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Something was crushing him, but he didn’t care. How could he care, his brother was in danger!

Everything stopped when the flash of a knife turned his brother into dust, nothing more than snow. Sans’ fists clenched and he used every ounce of might left in him to free himself. He had to do _something–_

“Sans! My dear, are you alright?” Toriel’s voice actually sounded… aghast?

Turning around to look at her, he couldn’t hide the flash of rage and disgust in his face. What did she mean, ‘are you alright?’ No he was not fucking alright, his brother had _died, again,_ and it was up to him to make that fucking brat _pay–_ but the horrified look on her face told him something was off. Sans whirled his head away from her, eyes searching for Papyrus. He stood out like a sore thumb, surrounded by little kids while being the only other skeleton in the area. Dread crept into his soul. It had been a vision. Of course. How was he going to explain this to Tori? He couldn’t tell her the truth. She wouldn’t understand, not to mention there was nothing she could do about it. His shoulders slumped and he forced a smile.

“H-heh… I’m fine.”

She gave him a scrutinizing look. “I’m not sure I can believe that, Sans. You seem very flustered, dear.”

“It’s nothin’, I’m just a little worked up over nothing.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to sit down next to her. His bones were aching from the cold. “I, uh… think I want to go home.”

Toriel stood up, taking his hand in her large paw. She looked him straight in the eye. Her beautiful violet eyes pierced his very soul, and he wanted to keep looking at them till he crumbled into ash, but he just… couldn’t. He looked down at his slippers, feeling maggot-infested.

“Sans… please… if anything is troubling you–”

“I’m _fine,_ Tori.” He nearly cringed at how quiet and sharp his words were.

“Really?” He couldn’t look at her. She didn’t believe him. He wouldn’t believe himself if he’d been her. He forced himself to look at her.

“Really.” He smiled a little wider. “I’m fine, I just want to go home. It’s freezing out here.” It wasn’t a complete lie– it was literally freezing. He did want to go home. To his relief, her face of concern turned into sympathetic sorrow.

“Alright… I suppose Frisk and I should head home too. Let’s go get them.”

Their walk was quiet and noticeably cheerless. Sans couldn’t find it in him to tell a pun. He felt guilty. He was guilty. A liar with nowhere to run. God he wanted a smoke. He nearly cursed out loud, remembering how he’d thrown them away. Now he was a guilty, irritable liar. The snow had turned into a light dusting by the time they reached Papyrus and the kids.

“Sans, Toriel! Greet--” he was interrupted as a kid crawling by his feet nearly made him trip. “Greetings! We were just about to make a snow fort!”

Toriel chuckled. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid Frisk and I need to go home.”

“Awww!” Frisk whined, head popping out of a nearby pile of snow. “Five more minutes?”

Toriel gave Sans what looked like an apologetic glance. “Alright, five more minutes. But no complaining, okay?”

They smiled and the small crowd trundled off to make the world’s fastest snow fort before Frisk left. Sans felt terrible. If he’d had a stomach he was sure he would’ve thrown up. The guilt, the fear… it was just too much for him. He sighed, closing his eye sockets. Everything was fine. He was safe. His brother wasn’t going to die. Toriel wasn’t going to worry about him. Right? He opened his eyes, feeling Toriel’s warmth next to him. She’d placed a hand on his shoulder as the two stared into the snow. More guilt he tried to push away. His own shaky hand met hers for a moment of silence. He had to do something, say something.

“D’you wanna meet again sometime? Monday, after we get off work?” He would’ve suggested Sunday but he didn’t feel like going anywhere tomorrow.

Toriel’s paw squeezed his shoulder. “Monday sounds lovely, dear. Perhaps you can come over for tea?”

Wasn’t exactly his idea of a date, but he agreed with a curt nod. Hopefully he’d remember. Hopefully he’d feel up to it. Hopefully…

 

Sunday went by in a blur. A tired, irritable, unhappy blur. Sans slept in, forgot breakfast, and slept some more on the couch while Papyrus turned on the TV. Sans couldn’t help but sleep. His first week of work had drained him, more than he was used to, and, whether he deserved it or not, he felt like sleeping. He didn’t care that he was daring the visions to take over. He just needed to escape. Ignore the fact that his head was a dull throb and his fingers were twitching and itching for a cigarette. He was practically kicking himself to get up, go to the nearest convenience store and buy a pack. The only reason he didn’t was because he was too lazy to move.

And then Monday morning came.

The hectic rushing to work, eye sockets drooping and bones aching, was overwhelming. There was so much to do. Allen was a klutz as usual, but Sans had him covered… when he wasn’t busy with a customer or too many people were watching. Curious comments clustered in the air from the occasional group of xenophobics, as if they thought he couldn’t hear. It was difficult to swallow, but he managed. With a smile. The breakfast rush came and went, and Sans felt like he should go back to sleep. Sans was wiping off the counter when the door jingled. The few patrons who were silently minding themselves gasped. A quiet murmur filled the cafe, as well as the scent of cotton candy and lipstick. Sans didn’t even have to look up to know Mettaton was here.

“ _Oh my!_ Look, darling, it’s our good friend Sans!” The robot said to the little ghost beside him, though it was loud enough for people in the kitchen to hear. Sans cringed, but kept his smile on as the strange pair approached.

“Welcome to Caffee, what can I get you today?”

A synthetic laugh filled the air. “Come now, dear. You don’t have to act like that around me and my dear Blooky.” He glanced around the shop, seemingly oblivious to the gawking stares of awe and confusion. Sans kept on smiling, hiding the building fury in his ribcage. “Hm. So _this_ is where you got a job! How… quaint.”

“Is there something you wanted, _sir._ ”

“Sir!” Canned laughter emitted from the speaker in the robot’s chest. “Did you hear that Blook?”

“Uh…y- yeah…” The ghost seemed a little flustered.

Mettaton rested an arm on the counter, which was quite a feat considering his height. “So, how’re you liking it here? Make any friends, gorgeous?”

“Mettaton.”

“Mhmm?”

“I need to know what you’re going to eat.”

Mettaton raised an eyebrow. “Eat? What made you think I came here to eat? My little Blookster here is showing me around! Having a day on the town! I just happened to notice you through the window. Thought we’d say ‘hello’.”

“Uh-huh.” Something smelled fishy, and it wasn’t the salmon sandwiches. “Well, ‘hello’. And, if you’re not going to order anything, goodbye.”

More canned laughter and a pose that left a leg on the counter. Sans was beginning to feel increasingly awkward. “Darling, it’s not going to be that easy to get rid of m--”

“Excuse me, sir,” Shelby’s voice took the robot by surprise. “But if this behaviour continues I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Mettaton looked at her, Sans, then Napstablook. With a composed huff, he removed his leg from the counter and beamed at them all. “Terribly sorry, gorgeous. Merely trying to catch up with an old _friend_. Come along Blooky, I believe you wanted to show me something around the corner.”

“Oh… Yeah…”

The odd pair left as applause sounded from the robot’s speakers and awkward whispers filled the empty space they left. Shelby turned to Sans with arms crossed.

“What was all that about?” The question sent dread crawling down his spine for some reason.

“Uh, tibi-honest… I have no idea,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “I think that heap of scrap’s just trying to get under my nonexistent skin.”

She smirked, shaking her head. “... Alright then. Is… _that…_ going to become a ‘thing?’”

“I don’t think so.” He made a silent vow that if Mettaton came by again he’d put a dent in his casing.

“Good. I mean, I know that guy’s a celebrity or something from where you came from, but all I hear about him is the destruction he causes.”

‘ _From where I came from?’_ “Heh… yeah. He’s pretty wound up.”

The doorbell rang. “Anyways, looks like you’ve got customers. I leave you to it.”

“Heh. Yeah.”

 

The ride to Toriel’s was quick. A bit too quick. Sans wasn’t very eager to see her, in all honesty. He’d been rude at the park. She was probably putting pieces together already. He would rather ignore the whole problem. He really, _really_ wanted to ignore it. Ignore it and buy some cigarettes. He couldn’t help but stare at each store he and his moped passed, wondering if they sold packs or not, wondering if he should stop, wondering, wondering… He couldn’t do that though. He couldn’t be late, he was trying to stop, he was looking for excuses. He grit his teeth, skull aching and groaning after his busy day. Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked Toriel to get together today. He just wasn’t feeling it. He groaned, inwardly, pulling into Toriel’s driveway.

 

The scent of cinnamon crashed over Sans as the door opened, Toriel smiling politely and beckoning him to step inside. Sans’ work smile changed into a friend smile, and he apologized for still wearing his work clothes.

“Oh, it’s fine dear. It looks lovely on you. Come, come, I’ve made a cinnamon-spice cake. I’ve still got to make the icing, but we can chat in the kitchen while we wait.”

“Sounds good, Tori.”

The chat was idle and pun riddled. For a moment Sans thought he felt fine. Being there in the warmth of the homey kitchen, with someone who could possibly understand him… it was nice. Tea was poured– spice teas, he noticed– and cake was served on dainty little plates.

Taking a bite, Sans smiled a little wider. “You know somethin’ Tori?”

“What?”

“When it comes to making desserts, you sure take the _cake_.”

She rolled her eyes, chuckling. She took a sip of her tea. “I was going to buy some loose-leaf tea, but the price was too _steep_.”

They both laughed. Something suddenly occurred to Sans.

“Where’s the kiddo?”

“Ah, Frisk’s… they’re visiting Asgore.”

“Oh.”

The light mood soured quickly, leaving an awkward silence sifting through the spicey air. Sans was swearing inwardly at his blunder, when Toriel let out a bitter laugh.

“I don’t really know why, Sans… but I feel like I owe you something.”

“Huh?”

She shrugged, taking a seat next to him at the kitchen island. “You made sure Frisk was safe. I believe… your part in their journey helped them free us.”

“Aw, c’mon… I didn’t really do that much.” More like, nothing at all. Sure, a few nudges here and there, but nothing life changing.

Toriel paused, looking down at her cup of tea. “I did very little. Less than you, I think. While you were out, I was locked in the Ruins. Waiting. Waiting for what would happen next.” Sans frowned, looking up at her. “You see, Sans… I knew. I knew that with this human, we would be free. For… for better or for worse. It was torture.” She sniffed, and Sans realized her hands were balled up and shaking. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do or say. Toriel was opening her heart, her feelings, her soul to him. He didn’t want to screw up, hurt her feelings, say the wrong thing. He pushed himself to take her hand in his, squeezing it gently.

“Everything’s fine now, Tori.” This time, he felt he could barely believe it. Everything was fine. Everything was going to be fine. Frisk had saved them. Freed them. And everything was fine, for the most part. Toriel squeezed back, wiping a stray tear from her snout. She let out a flustered chuckle.

“Oh dear. I’m such a silly woman. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to make things awkward.” She cleared her throat. “So, um, how was work today?” Their hands unclasped, Sans’ hand feeling shockingly cold.

He shrugged. “Decent, I guess. Mettaton showed up, said hi. Heh, by ‘hi’ I mean completely embarrass himself without really realizing it. My boss–” Sans’ phone rang. It was Papyrus. This was an odd time for Papyrus to be calling… “Uh, sorry, I’ve got to take this.”

“Of course, I’ll take care of our dishes.”

Sans answered the call, and was immediately blown away by a barrage of frantic chatter. He could barely understand what his brother was saying, he was talking so fast.

“Paps, slow down! What’s wrong? What’s happened? Are you alright?”

More frantic babble.

“Papyrus, please… slow down, and start from the beginning, I can barely understand you.”

He heard his brother take a deep breath. Cars zoomed by in the distance. He must have pulled off to the side of the road.

“W-well… you see, I was on my daily rounds… a-and… I got a call on my radio, it was very urgent and it told me to go to this apartment building I didn’t really understand what the issue was but when I got there–” His voice cracked and sounded a bit strangled. Sans did not have a good feeling about this.

“Go on… i-it’s okay, Pap, I’m listening.”

“There were other officers there, at the scene and… and… well we all went to this apartment and knocked on the door and oh… _oh my god Sans I don’t know if I can do this anymore I just want to go home back to Snowdin I just want to be a part of the Royal Guard I don’t want this why are humans so scary Sans why can’t they be like us–”_

 _“Papyrus!”_ His brother stopped talking with a few sobs. This was not good. Not good at all. What could’ve happened to upset his brother like this? Papyrus was unshakeable. Unbreakable. But by the sound of it, he was very, very broken. Sans spoke in a soft, very scared voice, “Papyrus… what happened?”

Silence. Silence that seemed to stretch on forever. A sniff. And then Papyrus said in a hardly audible voice, “I… I’m not sure. The other officers… they told me that… there wasn’t anything else we could do. She… she died.” Another long pause. Sans felt Toriel staring from nearby. “H-he died. I… I had to, Sans… he was going to hurt her. He was…”

Hearing his brother cry like that tore Sans apart. He needed to be there. He needed to tell him everything was going to be alright, like a big brother should. Papyrus needed him.

“Papyrus. W-where are you?”

Pause. “Elev… Eleventh Street.”

“Stay right there, I’m coming.”

“... Alright.”

Sans hung up and suddenly realized he was crying. There were tears rolling down his own skull, and he was shaking. He felt like he could barely breath. He looked up at Toriel.

“I… Can you give me a ride? I’ll explain along the way.”

Toriel nodded gravely, and the two were on the road in a flash.

 

Papyrus was frightened, confused, and hysterical. Sans was equally so. Sans suspected that if Toriel hadn’t been there to help, someone would’ve ended up in an even worse place. Sans still wasn’t sure if that hadn’t happened or not though.

“That’ll be $10.75, sir,” The uninterested cashier said. He forked over the money and grabbed the packs of cigarettes and the receipt, and hurried out of the gas station as fast as he could. Papyrus was at home, sleeping. He’d cried so much that he didn’t have much energy left by the time they got home. Sans wasn’t sure he could even remember the last time he’d seen Papyrus cry.

It was midnight and Sans couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing his brother like that… that was too much. All hope was lost if Papyrus was like that… if he turned into what Sans’ was… Sans knew he couldn’t make it like that.

The night passed in a blur. He spent some of the night at Grillby’s, that much he knew. The rest of the night… darkness. He couldn’t remember a thing. All he knew was that somebody must have driven him home, because there was no way in hell that he could’ve driven himself, if his hangover was any indicator. One thing he did remember though: the strange feeling that someone was watching him. He wasn’t sure when he’d felt it, or where, but the feeling was stuck to him, like a rock wedged between his ribs. He didn’t bother to call in sick. He only let the cold embrace of sleep ensnare him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed, please leave a comment, any sort of feedback is extremely helpful and a huge boost to my confidence. Thanks! :3


	6. No Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy cow I actually finished this chapter.

The story was in the news the next day. Since being freed from the Underground, this was the first human to be killed by a monster. The police made statements, witnesses claimed all sorts of outrageous things. People mourned. There weren’t any lawsuits against Papyrus, as the Police Department was protecting him fiercely, but Sans knew all that had happened would still affect the two of them severely. Sans called into Caffee, told them he was having a family crisis. Had to take the week or so off, make sure everything was okay. Papyrus did the same. Curtains were drawn, doors and windows locked. At least once a day someone would knock on the door, yelling through the door that they were from such-and-such a news station, and they wanted to hear ‘their side of the story’. Sans had to practically beg Papyrus to not open the door.

Over the course of 72 hours, Papyrus had gone from a nervous wreck to a hopeful wreck. He’d made about thirteen batches of spaghetti, filling the refrigerator with the stuff. When he wasn’t cooking, he was cleaning or pacing around the apartment. Sans was stuck on the couch, watching with a sort of horror as his brother, the only hope left in his life, ran around cleaning the apartment and saying things on repeat.

And forget about sleep. Sans couldn’t. He wanted to sleep, he really did. That’s all he wanted to do. But he couldn’t. He could only stare at the TV screen or smoke in his bedroom, hands shaking and bones aching.

The TV was playing an old human show, one of those black and white ones.

_ Click. _

A cartoon for kids.

_ Click. _

News–

_ Click. Click. Click. _

Documentary.

_ Click. _

Sports.

_ Click. _

“Sans?” Papyrus sat down beside him, hugging a pillow to his chest. Sans turned down the volume on the TV.

“Uh-huh?”

“Can… can we talk?”

Sans felt squeamish, but he turned the TV off. Nothing good on anyway. “Yeah. Sure.”

Silence as his brother gathered his words. “I… didn’t want to kill that human.”

“Pap…”

“I didn’t mean to cause such an uproar. I just… he… he had a gun.”

Papyrus was still blaming himself. Sans didn’t know what else to say. What could he say that hadn’t been said before? His brother continued, voice quiet.

“All the others are telling me that it’s going to be okay… but they don’t understand! They don’t understand. Especially since I’m… well, you know. I…” He hugged the pillow tighter, as if bracing himself for something. “I didn’t think being a r–… a police officer meant killing people. I know that’s what they do… but I didn’t think that it would ever happen to me.” He sighed, speaking quietly, “I’m not sure ‘the Great Papyrus’ is so great anymore.”

Something in Sans snapped when Papyrus said that. Papyrus had never said anything like that.  _ Ever _ . Maybe what Sans said next was him hanging on to the only hope left in his life, maybe it was desperate instinct. All he knew was that all of a sudden he felt like he could burn a hole through the earth.

“Papyrus. Listen to me. You are the  _ Greatest fucking thing _ in this whole goddamn universe.”

“But–”

“No.  _ Listen. To me. _ That bastard, that guy with the gun, deserved what he got. If you hadn’t been there, someone else would’ve put a bullet through his head. Or just the lady would be dead. And, yeah, what happened was horrible, but there were _ no other options _ to you. As great as you are, nobody,  _ nobody _ , can go back and change it. Look at me, Pap. You’re not  _ just _ Papyrus. You’re not  _ just _ The Great Papyrus.” He paused, realizing he was on the verge of tears. “You are  _ The Greatest Brother I’m ever going to have _ . If the humans can’t see that, if  _ no one _ can see that, we might as well just… just go back.”

Papyrus was silent. Avoiding eye contact. Deep in thought. After a few moments, he said, “Do you really think that? That… I… I’m a good brother?”

Sans almost laughed in disbelief. “Are you kidding? You’re the brother of all brothers.”

His brother’s face thought for a moment, and then slowly lit up into a smile. “I… suppose I am a good brother, aren’t I?”

“That’s what I been sayin’.”

Papyrus sat up straight, smiling brighter. “Wowie!” He chuckled. A somewhat confused, scared chuckle, but a happy one nevertheless. “I… nyeh-heh, thanks! I actually feel much better now!” A look of dreaded realization passed over his face. “I… think I made too much spaghetti.”

Sans chuckled, panic ebbing away. Thank God. Papyrus still had a shred of innocence in him. If Papyrus was better, everything was better. Even if just by a little bit. Couldn’t have two mentally fucked up members in the family, now could they? Papyrus scooped Sans up in a big hug, continuing to laugh. “I, the  _ Great _ Papyrus, am so, so,  _ so _ thankful to have such an inspirational brother like you!” Sans gulped as Papyrus twirled around the living room. “We should make celebrational cupcakes!”

Sans’ head was spinning when Papyrus set him down. “Urgh… how about popcorn?”

“Popcorn it is! Uh… I’m not sure we have popcorn though.”

“Aw, that schucks.”

“Oh my God,  _ Sans! _ ” Papyrus marched off into the kitchen, hiding suppressed laughter.

“What, was that too  _ corny _ for ya!” Sans yelled from the couch.

“ _ SANS!” _

 

That night the pair made popcorn and watched a movie. It was a human movie (of course) but it was a decent one. Papyrus seemed to like it. He laughed at all the jokes, as usual, and Sans interjected with his own terrible ones. When the movie finished, Papyrus flipped the channel to the middle of a Mettaton show. Sans would have protested, but wanted to keep his brother happy. They kept watching, drowsiness falling over the both of them. Papyrus was the first to fall asleep.

Having draped a blanket over his brother, Sans dragged his feet to his bedroom, falling into his bed. He had no intentions of sleeping. He couldn’t. Not anymore. Papyrus might have improved, but Sans knew from his own experience that if anything upset him, the whole process would start over again. Sans couldn’t afford for that to happen.

_ Fwish _ . Sans lit a cigarette in his room. The window was open but he wasn’t standing by it. He didn’t care. It was unlikely Papyrus would wake up, though he was a pretty light sleeper. Sans just sat on his bed, staring at his closet. Staring, staring. He was tired, but sleep didn’t want to visit. ‘ _ Heh. Sleep’s scared of me,’ _ he thought with a gloomy smirk. Worry began to take hold of him, wondering if either of them were getting paid in their work absences. He couldn’t remember what Shelby had said.

Inhale… exhale… Forget about it. Let someone else worry. He pushed the thought away, but it pushed back. Think about something else.

Would Papyrus remember this incident forever? Sans knew something like having to put someone down wasn’t a topic you forgot easily. Papyrus was too kind-hearted to let something like this turn him sour, though. He might hide it. Ignore it. Something. That’s what Sans would try to do.

Glancing at his phone, Sans was surprised to see so many unread texts. When was the last time he checked his phone? He groaned, scanning the kind words and inquiries from friends. There was even something from Asgore. Had Papyrus received any texts too? Probably. Well there was no way he could text everyone back individually, so he just made a group text and told them they were doing fine. Staying out of things while this all settled down.

He closed his eye sockets and sighed. The space inside his skull felt as if it would implode on itself. Where was his life going? As far as he knew, down the drain. Spinning and spiraling into a void of self-loathing.

His phone buzzed. Undyne? She never texted him. He cringed at the amount of capital letters on his screen. It was like she didn’t know lowercase existed.

**-HOW’S PAPYRUS DOING? HE WON’T ANSWER MY TEXTS!**

Oh man. That wasn’t good.

**-hes ok**

**-considering**

 

**-ARE YOU SURE??**

**-I SWEAR IF UR LYING I WILL BREAK**

**-UR MOPED**

 

**-yeah don’t worry**

**-we’re fin**

He could practically hear her seething from across town.

 

**-LOOK LAZYBONES I DONT CARE WHAT YOU SAY**

**-I DON’T TRUST YOUR JUDGEMENT.**

**-I MEAN, WHAT R U EVEN DOING UP RN??**

Sans let that sink in for a moment.

**-DON’T ANSWER THAT.**

**-EITHER WAY, IM COMING OVER TOMORROW TO GET YOU TWO OUT OF THE DUMPS! FUHUHUHU!**

 

**-hey only pap can call me lazybones**

**-and ok i guess u can come over**

**-dont expect a bucket of smiles or anyfin**

He paused.

**-also paps in a sort of**

**-delicate mental state rn**

**-so**

**-maybe**

 

**-WHAT?**

 

**-maybe u should tone it down a bit**

 

**-WHAT????**

 

**-undyn**

**-do u know how to deal with ptsd**

 

**-OF COURSE I KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH PTSD! I CAN DEAL WITH ANYTHING**

**-HAVE YOU EVEN SEEN ME FIGHT BEFORE?**

**-FUHUHUHUHUHU!**

 

Sans groaned. He guessed she had no idea what PTSD stood for. He wasn’t even sure if that’s what Papyrus was going through right now. Tomorrow was going to be hell.

**-pls**

**-just**

**-um**

**-can u bring alphys with u**

**-or idk toriel**

 

**-HM… JUST A SEC LET ME ASK ALPHY**

**-...YEAH SHE CAN COME OVER!**

**-WHY?**

 

**-um**

**-the more the merrier**

 

**-HM… GOOD IDEA!**

**-FOR A NUMBSKULL YOU SURE HAVE YOUR MOMENTS**

**-FUHUHUHUHUHU!**

 

**-ok**

**-thanks i guess**

**-cya tomorrow**

 

**-SEEYA NERD**

Sans rubbed his eye sockets. There was no way he was going to sleep tonight. A long sigh escaped him. Time to suffer for the rest of the night.

  
  


The sun had just begun to rise when Sans drifted into a dreary dreamless sleep. Almost immediately Papyrus had burst in, waking his brother. Papyrus was babbling about something, and Sans could barely focus. Everything felt groggy and blurry. His head was simultaneously aching and numb. Was that even possible? Sans didn’t care. He just watched in a dull stupor as Papyrus walked around his room… picking things up? Why was he doing that?

“Papyrus… ugh, bro what’s going on?”

Papyrus jerked upright from picking up a piece of trash. “I  _ just _ told you Sans! Undyne texted and said she and Alphys are coming over today! She didn’t mention when, but we need to be prepared for their arrival! I, the Great Papyrus, am trying to clean up around here, since it seems I’m the only one with a skull on right in this household.” He continued picking stuff up. “Even if Undyne  _ isn’t _ going to see your room, it would be good to clean up in here a bit. Ugh, what  _ is _ that smell?”

Sans sniffed. Nothing. He hopped off his bed, shrugged, and put on his hoody. Papyrus sniffed.

“Hm. Why does it smell like smoke?”

Sans froze. It was easy to do, since he was already standing still.  _ ‘Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit,’ _ he thought, internally freaking out. If Papyrus found out, who know how he’d react. It could be enough to make him crack. Question himself again. Break in such a way that no one could fix him. Sans unfroze. Sans shrugged, smiling, trying very, very hard not to sweat it.

“That sure is a burning question, huh?”

“ _ Sans!” _ Papyrus groaned, throwing the trash back on the floor. “Ugh, enough of these terrible jokes, Undyne could be here any minute for all we know! Oh… we’ll have to skip your room. Now come with me, we’ve got to look like a fully functioning battleship before Undyne gets here!”

  
  


_ Ding-dong _ –  **_WHAM-WHAM-WHAM!_ **

Sans opened the door before it could shatter under Undyne’s fists. The couple entered, Undyne exuberantly, Alphys with a flustered smile.

“What’s up nerds!” Undyne said, striking a powerful pose in the middle of the living room. She laughed her signature laugh when Papyrus rushed in with a smile. “I see you’ve been keeping everything in tip-top shape, Papyrus! Now, everybody… to the kitchen! I’ve got a special lesson planned for the lot of you sorry suckers.”

“Oh boy! A  _ group _ cooking lesson!” Papyrus exclaimed, everyone making their way to the kitchen.

Their kitchen was sort of small. It had enough room for two people to stand comfortably, but having four people in there just barely worked if they moved a few things. The first thing Undyne did was hand out aprons, saying, “Only the best of the best can go without these babies.” Sans noticed with some humor all of them were pink and frilly.

“Hey, how come you don’t get an apron?” Papyrus asked as Undyne ‘handed’ out the last apron (it was really more of a throw, but it was a gentle throw for Undyne).

“Because, knucklehead,  _ I’m _ the best of the best! Now, everyone pay attention…” She picked up a bag that seemed to be filled to bursting with all sorts of interesting ingredients.

The rest of the morning was filled with loud yelling, food puns, splattered vegetables, and laughter. Sans’ meal was the worst, although in his defense he could barely keep an eye socket open. Oddly enough, Papyrus’ meal (Sans never did catch what it was they were making… something with potatoes) tasted the best in the end, though Undyne refused to admit it. They were in the middle of eating when Papyrus got a text.

“Oh… whoops! I, the Great Papyrus, am terribly sorry, I’ve got to take this. Never fear! I will be back before you can say, uh… Spaghetti Noodles!” Before anyone could object or ask why, the tall skeleton had left.

That meant Sans was left alone with the scary fish lady and the tubby lizard lady.

“So, uh, Sans, how’s the job going? Uh, I m-mean, I know you aren’t working there right now, eh-heh…”

“Fine. It’s been fine,” Sans said with a shrug.

The silence following couldn’t have been more awkward.

A loud guffaw from Undyne when Papyrus returned startled Sans.

“What was so important, huh? You got a  _ special someone, _ hmm?” she teased, elbowing him as he sat down.

“W-what! Of course not, don’t be ridiculous, Undyne!” He paused. “Not to say I don’t have to constantly flee from secret admirers, but this happened to be a, uh, work-related text. Yes.”

“What’s work texting ya for?” Sans said, desperately hoping he was just being paranoid. He’d known Papyrus his whole life. He  _ knew _ Papyrus was a terrible liar.

“Oh, just a fellow employee checking in on me. Nothing to worry about!”

All sorts of alarms went up in Sans’ head. Something was wrong. Internal panic threatened to overtake him. Papyrus was lying. When Papyrus felt the need to hide something from him (rare as that was), it was usually out of the kindness of his heart. In Snowdin, when Papyrus wasn’t much more than a toddling bag of bones, Papyrus had tried to keep it a secret that a group of monsters were teasing him. It hadn’t been outright bullying– but it was enough to make Papyrus uncomfortable.

“Well, I think this has been a splendid morning!” Papyrus exclaimed, having finished his meal. “I, the Great Papyrus, certainly feel very cheerful. What about you, Sans?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Peachy.”

“In fact, I feel like you two being here has increased my happiness ten-fold! We should have group cooking lessons together more often!”

Undyne smiled, massive teeth glistening. “Ya see, Alphys? I told you being around would help–” Undyne’s phone buzzed. Checking it, she frowned. “Huh. Looks like this little shindig’s gonna have to end early.”

“What is it, Undyne?” Alphys asked.

“One of my clients needs to reschedule an appointment to today.” She shrugged. “You know how personal training is.”

“Of course, of course!” Papyrus said, everyone standing up as he gathered dishes. “I’ll show you two out in a second, I just want to get these dishes put away…”

“Nah, bro. I got it,” Sans volunteered. He might as well make himself useful. The two monsters followed him to the door, which he opened with a wink. “Did you know that the person who invented the door knocker got a  _ no-bell  _ prize?”

Undyne would’ve pummelled him if Alphys hadn’t been there.

“Heh… sorry ‘bout that. You little turd.” Undyne paused. “Look. Sans. I hope you’re keeping an eye on Papyrus.”

“Don’t worry about it. I… I think he’s getting better.” He smiled, despite his worries. “He’s just been through a, uh… traumatic experience.”

“I don’t want to barge in on your life–” Sans snorted. “–but I think you guys need to talk. And don’t give me that look, you little punk. You’re brothers, and you guys frickin’ live together, there needs to be some sort of communication between you guys.”

“Y-yeah. Undyne and I are always honest with each other,” Alphys added with a toothy smile.

Sans shrugged. “Okay, I’ll talk to him. Seeya ‘round.”

“Later, punk.”

“Bye, Sans.”

  
  


The apartment was quite a bit calmer since their guests left. Music could still be heard as a dull throb a few rooms away, but at this point Sans could care less. At least it wasn’t terrible music. Night fell. The light from the TV cast a weird glow on the living room, illuminating everything with a mind-numbing buzz. Sans was so tired he could barely see what was playing, but he assumed it was a cooking show by the sound of Papyrus scribbling notes in rapt attention nearby. Now that Sans thought about, ever since moving to the surface, Papyrus’ cooking really had improved. It still wasn’t great, but it was decent. He couldn’t give up the method Undyne had taught him for spaghetti though.

“Hey Sans?”

“Mm?”

“Do you… do you know when you’re going to go back to work? Nyeh-heh… I, uh, don’t want to pressure you, but it’s almost been a week.”

Sans shrugged. “Didn’t really think about it. Maybe next week. Maybe week after. Dunno.”

A pause as Papyrus jotted down a few more notes. A commercial started playing and Papyrus set down his notes. “I see… I was thinking about heading back next monday. Does that sound good to you?”

“I guess.”

“It’s just… I just wanted to make sure you didn’t, oh… I don’t know… have any plans. Or anything like that.”

“Nope. I got nothin’.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothin’.” A commercial for laundry detergent filled the awkward silence. Something wasn’t sitting right with Sans. “Is… everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh, everything’s splendid! Absolutely, positively, uh, marvelous! Nyeh-heh…”

Sans gave him a weird look. “Bro… you can tell me if anything’s not okay, ya know?”

“I know. Oh, Rachel’s back!” Papyrus snatched up his notes again as the commercial break ended. Sans closed his eyes for a second. Did he really want to dig any further into this? If something was wrong, he wasn’t sure if there would be anything he could do about it. Soon enough the commercials came back in a flurry of colors. This time Papyrus didn’t put down his notes. “What a fascinating turn of events, don’t you think Sans? I would’ve never thought she’d use thyme or, or the, uh… what was it? Ah, tomato paste! With this recipe. I’ll have to try it sometime!”

“I guess you could say she had some  _ thyme _ on her hands?”

Papyrus rolled his eyes. Sans chuckled. A commercial depicting a few children playing with MTT brand stuffies blared through the dim room.

“Look, man… I don’t want to be a party pooper, but I can tell when you’re lying.” Sans cringed when he said it. “Please… if anything’s bothering you–”

“ _ Nothing _ is bothering me. The Great Papyrus simply cannot be bothered! And the Great Papyrus–ahem–  _ never _ lies. How could you, my only brother and closest friend, a-accuse me of such a thing? I-I…” the poor guy was sweating bullets now. Sans muted the TV and let his brother tire out his talking. “And another thing!  _ I’m  _ not the only liar in this room! I– oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Hmph. Look, Sans. I’m alright, you simply do not have to worry about me.”

“It’s a little late for that, bro. Please, tell me what’s going on.”

Papyrus crossed his arms, tapping his foot. After an agonizing minute of muted silence, his shoulders slumped and he relented. “Fine. But only if you tell me what’s going on with you, okay? They don’t call me ‘Best Brother’ for nothing, right?”

Aw, man, this was going to be rough. He couldn’t just outright say everything– that would crush Papyrus. He shrugged. “Alrighty then. I, uh…” What to say, what to say? “I just… my job sucks. Well… no it doesn’t.”

“It sucks, but it doesn’t? I don’t understand.”

“Okay, it’s not the job that sucks. It’s… it’s the people. The customers. I dunno… I think… I just think a lot of them come from monster-free places. They… dunno how to treat me like a… like an equal. Some dick made an issue about it.” He sighed. It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t everything. He looked at Papyrus. “Your turn, bro.”

Papyrus was quiet. Fiddling with his notes and pencil. He sighed, eye sockets closing. “I suppose we have some similar problems, then.”

Sans didn’t say anything as Papyrus explained. “There’s this fellow at work. He, uh… he’s not very nice to me. Despite my best efforts at trying to befriend him, he is constantly berating me with unkind words and mockery. And he, um… well, in an effort to befriend him I gave him our house number and my phone number. He’s… been calling. Texting. I’m quite surprised you haven’t answered one of his calls yet.” He twirled his pencil in his fingers before letting it drop. “Ever since… you know… he’s been sending very unkind words to me. It hurts. I don’t know why he’s doing this.”

The TV stayed mute as they both contemplated their confessions.

“Holy shit dude,” Sans whispered.

“Holy, um, shit indeed.”

“Can’t you report harassment? Tell someone? Anything?”

“I didn’t want to, but I think now that I’ve said something, I might. I just wanted to be his friend. I don’t know why he hates me so much.”

“Pap, it’s not just you he hates. He hates all monsters. If he’s anything like the guys I’ve had to serve, they’re xenophobes and… I dunno, probably scared.”

“I know.”

Sans pinched the bridge of his nose. God, he was tired. And fucking guilty. Papyrus had just spilled his heart and here he was, with only a fraction of the truth. He couldn’t tell Papyrus though. He couldn’t tell him about the smoking, the visions. Not anything.

A sigh whistled through both of their bones.

Before either of them could say anything else, Sans’ phone buzzed. He squinted at the bright screen, confused. Was he reading this right? 

**-Hellooo darling! Mettaton here <3**

**-Before you ask how I got your number, I’ll just remind you that a certain reptilian friend of ours paid me a visit and just so happened to leave her phone unlocked. :3**

What the fuck did this guy want?

“Who could be texting you this late at night?” Papyrus asked.

“Hm? Oh. It’s Alphys,” he lied before he could think about being honest. Damnit. “Somethin’ about the moped.” His phone buzzed again.

**-Are you there, sweetums? I know you’re reading these :)**

“I’m going to bed.”

“Oh. Okay. Goodnight, I guess?”

“‘Night.”

 

Sans shut the door behind him. Now he was the one sweating bullets. What could this piece of scrap metal possible want?

**-what**

 

**-Hehe, there you are, gorgeous! How’s the weather down there?**

 

**-is that a fuckin short joke**

**-comin from a guy who can’t see his own toes when he stands up straight**

 

**-ooh, ouch! *3***

**-Someone’s a bit touchy tonight. ;)**

**-And no, it wasn’t a short joke :( I was trying to be civil, if you must know. You know we live in different parts of the city, right? Your weather’s not always my weather, hon.**

 

**-y the hell are u talking 2 me**

 

**-Look, darling. We need to talk.**

 

**-y**

 

**-It’s about… well. Hehe, i don’t think this is really something that can be discussed over texts, gorgeous. How about we set a date? My place, oh… Monday at 2? :3**

 

**-y the hell would i do that**

 

**-oh idk…**

**-I don’t think you’d be keen on people knowing about a certain addiction of yours.**

What the hell was he playing at? Sans took a breath, realizing he was shaking. Was it from anger or lack of sleep or both? He gritted his teeth, phone buzzing again.

**-Besides, I believe the topic is something you’re rather interested in.**

 

**-fuck u**

 

**-Haha! Darling, you didn’t even ask what the topic was. :)**

 

**-whats the topic**

 

**-A certain brother of yours~**

 

**-FUCK**

**-YOUfdskaj**

“Fuck!” Sans yelped as he accidentally flung his phone across the room, blue aura lighting up the room. Begrudgingly, he walked over and picked up the phone, examining it for cracks. Nothing, just new texts.

**-Hm. seems i’ve hit a sore spot.**

**-Look. I don’t want to get on your bad side, but it seems it’s too late. Let’s talk in person and maybe we can be civil about this.**

Sans groaned, dragging his fingers over his skull. The aching had returned in record time. He closed his eye sockets, opened the window, and lit a cigarette. He heard the TV out in the living room, unmuted. He turned off the phone. Finished the cigarette. He crept out into the living room. The numbness had been replaced with dread and fear. Knowing Mettaton… whatever he wanted to say about Papyrus, it wouldn’t be good. He couldn’t lose Papyrus. He couldn’t lose his brother. Papyrus was the only one who without a doubt always loved him. He was the only one who ever had any sort of belief in him.

“Hey. Papyrus.”

“Nyeh?” The poor guy was half-asleep on the couch. He’d been sleeping on the couch a lot lately. Sans sat on the couch with him, leaning on his shoulder.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I would… ne’r…” He yawned. “I, the Great Papyrus, would never dream of leaving you.”

Sans smiled, patting him on the arm. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey thanks for reading, I hoped you enjoyed! Next chapter coming soon (I hope). Comments really help, I love hearing your thoughts, anything helps my motivation as long as it's helpful. :3


	7. No Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Splendiferous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit shorter than some of my other chapters, but I hope you enjoy anyways!

Monday, 10 in the am. Sans couldn’t believe he was doing this. Why had he let that scrap pile get to him? He groaned, wondering how his day could get any worse. He hadn’t slept well in who-knows-how-long, he should’ve been at work, and everything was blurry. He was surprised he was even conscious. 

The little green moped pulled up to the giant pink-wrought-iron gated driveway. The sun was shining, birds were singing, but Sans felt dead inside. At the same time the fury of a thousand suns burned in his soul. It took everything inside him not to destroy the various shrubs he passed on his way towards the giant mansion on the top of the hill. The place was the home of probably the only Ex-Underground celebrity, and it was absolutely plastered with glitter and pink. Even the grass was pink. He parked the moped with a sigh. He should’ve been at work. That’s what he’d told Papyrus– that he was going to check in at work. See if he could still do it. Instead he was meeting with his least favorite acquaintance. Mettashit. He buzzed the doorbell, slapping a grin on his face. Might as well act the part.

The door opened by itself, a disembodied voice beckoning him to come in. Sans grimaced, suddenly remembering the main reason why he hated this place. Mettaton had the place rigged so when he hooked up to the house’s wifi (or whatever, Sans wasn’t entirely sure) he literally  _ became the house _ . His eyes were everywhere, as well his his arms and voice. It was his little world to control, and Sans didn’t want any part in it.

“Ah, fashionably late, I see! Well, don’t just stand there,  _ darling, _ come on in,” Mettaton’s voice purred. Sans shrugged off the mechanical arms that tried to hang up his helmet and jacket. They retreated into the wall with a shrug. “Alright, alright, no need to be so grouchy. I’ll be right with you, just give me a moment.” There was a pause, Sans looking around the decorative foyer. 

The walls were practically dripping with glitter and sequins, as were the plants and various wall decorations. He doubted the plants were real. The only thing real that he could identify was the granite floors. Several big mirrors lined the high-ceilinged hallway, which led to an area that split off to what looked like a ball room with hallways splitting off in all directions. He sauntered down the biggest hallway, following the opening doors leading him ahead. 

“No need to be so quiet, dear. Tell me, how have you and your brother been doing? I’m sure all this…  _ kerfuffle _ has been quite a shock for the both of you.” The still-disembodied voice floated through the air, grating on Sans’ bones like a saw.

“We’re doing fine.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” he said, sounding amused. Sans wondered how long it would take to burn the place to the ground. A little nagging voice told him that maybe that would have bad repercussions, however, so he let it go.

Sans entered a big pink living room, and saw Mettaton lounging on a big pink couch, wearing a big pink robe.

“Ok, big guy– why am I here?” Sans asked, arms crossed. “I should be at work, ya know.”

Mettaton laughed, eyeing the skeleton as if he were an amusing child’s toy. “Please, darling. No need for the attitude.” He crossed his legs, snapping his fingers. Without warning a chair appeared underneath Sans, and he was sitting now. This did not help his attitude.

“Just… tell me why I’m here.” Sans felt very close to doing something destructive.

The smile Mettaton gave him would’ve boiled his blood if he had any. “I’m glad you asked, my dear. First, however… I want to ask  _ you _ a question.”

Sans didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to hear it, but he didn’t really have a choice. Mettaton continued, casually adjusting his robe.

“Are you and your brother happy?”

“ _ Peachy. _ ”

“Now, that right there,” Mettaton said with a pout. “That doesn’t sound convincing. Gorgeous, if you’re going to lie to me, at least  _ try  _ to act the part.”

Sans shrugged, trying not to slip into the plush depths of the chair.

“Is Papyrus alright?”

“Yeah. Just ask Alphys or Undyne. They checked in on us.”

Mettaton wasn’t smiling anymore. “You see, dear… I’m not sure that’s true. Your brother isn’t as naive as you think he is. He’s not…” he sighed, waving his words away as if they were flies. “Nevermind. While I asked you here to talk about Papyrus, this isn’t the conversation I wanted to have.” He leaned forward on the couch, smile returning, albeit somewhat less despicable in appearance. That scared Sans more than anything he'd ever seen. “The truth is, Sans… Papyrus and I… are… _ interested _ in each other. We have been interested in each other for a good while now. The thing is, dear… oh, how do I say this… you’re holding him back.”

Sans nearly lost it, then and there. This was it. He was in his nightmare. Papyrus would leave him for the person he hated and Sans would die alone and unwanted. He had no words to say. He was frozen. Frozen in fear, anger, despair. He could see it now: himself, rotting away in a dark alley somewhere. Just a pile of bones and ash, dashed to the side by a metal man. Forgotten and unwanted. It hurt. It hurt seeing himself like this. A part of him knew that something like this would happen eventually. He couldn’t hold onto Papyrus forever. He knew that. He didn’t want to know that.

“What? No comments? No witty remarks? Nothing–”

“ _ Fuck. You, _ ” he whispered, hands balled up into fists. He couldn’t stop himself from shaking, gritting his teeth.

“Oh.” Mettaton actually looked disappointed. “I was hoping you were just mad the other night because it was late.” His face changed instantly, appearing darker… not quite sinister but very serious. “I really don’t want to resort to…  _ your addiction _ , dear.” Sans nearly choked. “I don’t want it to seem like threat. But both you _and Papyrus_ need help–”

Sans snorted. Chuckled.  _ Laughed _ . Despite the fact that he felt like he was going to be sick and cry and scream and burn all at the same time, he couldn’t help but burst into laughter. He didn’t understand why, and he didn’t care. He didn’t care that Mettaton was looking at him weird, he didn’t care that he wasn’t at work. He didn’t even care when he fell off the chair due to his laughing so hard. He didn’t care about the dull  _ thwak  _ of his skull hitting the floor, breaking the numbness for a moment. He didn’t care that everything, inside and out, hurt.

He did care, however, when he saw his brother. His baby brother, his life support, being played like a puppet by a tin can. Papyrus and Mettaton? Would Papyrus be happy? Would he  _ always _ be happy? Too many times Sans had seen a Mettaton-shaped phantom do terrible things. Papyrus was smiling, but he didn’t look happy. And then Sans realized he wasn’t looking at Papyrus at all, but himself. It was his face, in a mirror. A big, sparkly, pink-stained mirror. Metallic cords hung behind him, trailing across the floor and ending in lifeless gloves. Somewhere amidst the forest of cords something pink glowed. Sans ignored it. He just continued looking at himself, denying what was behind him. He couldn’t stand it. He didn’t know what it was. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. So he stared into his own lifeless eye sockets and unhappy smile. No wonder humans used skeletons as a symbol of death. He definitely looked the part. He ignored the sparks and twitches of the cords behind him, the metal-arm forest stirring to life, hands inching closer and closer and closer, fingers gesticulating rapidly while fog crept over the floor. He ignored it. Desperately. All he saw was himself in the mirror. He touched the mirror, letting his smile drop. 

The mirror kept smiling.

The mirror kept smiling even as white-gloved hands grabbed his shoulders and arms, and cords tangled and overcame him. 

The mirror kept smiling even as Sans struggled to escape the thousands of snakey appendages, unable to burn, unable to breathe. 

Still his reflection smiled as the mirror cracked and shattered like bone and all hope was lost, sparks of electricity freezing in the aching darkness around him.

 

_ “Sans!  _ Sans are you alright? _ ” _ a sickeningly sweet voice cracked through Sans’ skull and his eye sockets shot open. Why the hell was Mettaton holding him? He scrambled away, pushing at the robot roughly, a burst of blue aura lighting up the room for a second. His hands grabbed at his ribcage, trying to breathe, trying to compose himself. A robotic voice said something but he wasn’t listening. 

“Sans? What… what was that?”

Sans shut his eyes tight, bones rattling. God, it all hurt. It hurt so fucking much. Every breath burned and every time he opened his eyes he saw little spots of darkness.

“Sans?” 

In a flash he was getting the hell out of there. Running, rushing, getting away, away,  _ away. _

 

It seemed an eternity in a second and he was outside, another blur of time later and he was driving through town. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Caffee, but he ignored it with a desperate aching in his soul. He needed to leave. If just for a few hours. Time blurred again and he found himself sitting on a bench at the park.

The day was still sunny, though clouds loomed on the edge of the horizon. There were a few people in the park, but none of them seemed to notice him. The sound of car traffic in the distance mingled with the quiet talking of humans as they passed by. Birds chirped. A motorcyclist pulled into the parking lot. A gust of wind chilled Sans to the bone, prompting him to hug himself tighter. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to feel. He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination or if he was about to pass out. His phone buzzed, but he ignored it. A sigh escaped him in a short puff of breath. God, he was such a mess. What must that scrap heap think of him now? He groaned, swearing under his breath. Mettaton was probably going to spill the beans. Let the cat out of the bag. Sans wanted to get better… but getting better meant being in pain. Sans didn’t want to deal with pain. He was already in too much pain. Anymore and he feared he’d break beyond repair. What was wrong with him? Sure, he hadn’t slept in at least 48 hours… and he was probably suffering the consequences of that… but it felt like there was something else going on. He shuddered, remembering his vision. He’d thought for the past few days that maybe the visions were over. Today had told him he was wrong.

His phone buzzed again, and again he ignored it. What was the point? What was the point of caring? No matter who was texting him, it was bound to be something he didn’t want to hear. Instead, he watched the few people walking by. They all looked happy. Cheerful. Not a care in the world.  _ They _ didn’t feel like their lives were lost. Sans didn’t even see the point in envying them. It wouldn’t help. Nothing would, nothing could. Nothing should. 

He didn’t deserve it.

A group of teenagers walked by, laughing. A middle-aged man strolled by, accidentally making eye contact with Sans and giving a curt nod and a smile. A couple of kids ran by, glancing at him with smiling eyes as they passed. Something about the way they looked, the way they seemed so good and happy and pure made Sans check his phone. Maybe it was because they reminded him of Frisk. 

To his surprise, the texts were from Toriel.

**-Are you a camera?**

**-Because whenever I see you I smile!**

Sans smirked, feeling tired. Leave it to Toriel to cheer him up a little. She may be oblivious to his situation, but her kindness could kill any negative thoughts temporarily.

**-tori that was terrible**

 

**-Haha I know! What are you up to?**

 

**-at the park**

 

**-Oh? Alone or is Papyrus with you?**

 

**-alone**

**-my shift just ended**

**-thought id**

**-park it here**

‘ _ Good idea, Sans. Hide the lie with a pun,’ _ he thought with a guilt-stained soul.

 

**-XD**

**-(Frisk taught me that one haha!)**

**-Anywho, I was wondering if you and your brother would like to come over tonight? We’re having lasagna.**

 

**-id have to ask paps**

**-he loves ur lasagna tho so i don’t think he’d mind**

**-whats the occasion**

 

**-Oh, nothing special. I just thought it would be nice for all of us to get together. ]:)**

He knew he shouldn’t have been overthinking it, but a part of him wondered if she was doing this out of pity. He sighed.

**-k sounds good**

**-hows frisk doin?**

 

**-Frisk is doing lovely, actually. I think they’ve gotten over the worst bit of a cold, but other than that they’re doing fine.**

**-I can’t help but worry though.**

 

**-how come?**

 

**-Well…**

**-Being an ambassador is very taxing for them. We’ve made several appearances at the city hall, and our schedule has gotten very busy. You remember how things went at the Capitol right? When we first escaped?**

 

**-oh**

**-yeah**

Sans cringed involuntarily, remembering the hard questions and eventual meltdown. If Toriel hadn’t been there things would have ended much differently.

**-Things have been much better than that, thank goodness. I still worry for them. They’ve had so little time to be a child. But I’m also afraid that I’m spoiling them because of that. I don’t want Frisk to grow up so fast, but they can’t stay a child forever…**

**-Oh dear, I’m just not sure what to do.**

**-Sorry for bothering you.**

 

**-nah its fine**

**-maybe just let the kiddo decide when they're ready to grow up?**

**-idk**

**-i suck at givin advice**

 

**-]:)**

**-Thanks, dear, I think your insight is very helpful. See you and Papyrus this afternoon?**

 

**-yeah probs.**

**-cya**

Sans put his phone away, confused and exhausted. How could he face his brother after meeting with Mettaton? If what he said was true… that he and Papyrus were interested in each other… well, there wasn’t much he could do about it. There were plenty of things he  _ wanted _ to do, but he couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t end up hurting Papyrus’ feelings. How long had they been communicating? He sighed. He couldn’t let go of the fact that Mettaton was dangerous. The man had tried to murder a child on live-television, for pete's sake! Sans couldn’t just let him use his brother for whatever evil plan he may or may not have. Sans might’ve been a sucky brother but he had to draw the line somewhere.

Maybe he should just try to forget about it.

 

 

Of course, Papyrus was ecstatic when Sans told him about Toriel’s invitation. He really did love her lasagna, even if he still claimed spaghetti was a superior pasta form. Sans couldn’t help but stay silent for the entire car ride, which wasn’t difficult considering Papyrus’ excited chatter. Sans could barely look at him. Eventually he pretended to fall asleep. And then he did fall asleep. They arrived right on time, Frisk answering the door with a big smile.

“Hey kiddo.”

“Greetings human! We have arrived!”

Frisk giggled. “Sans! Papyrus! C’mon, c’mon!” They tugged on both of the brothers’ arms, Papyrus playfully pretending that their tugs were making him fall over.

“Ah, hello dears! I’ll be out in a moment,” Toriel called from the kitchen. “I’m just putting the lasagna in the oven.”

Frisk grabbed Sans’ hands and started twirling around the living room with him. They both laughed when Papyrus joined in. Sans would’ve passed out if it hadn’t been for the firm grip they both had on him. It was fun, but Sans was getting dizzy and politely excused himself to sit on the couch. One minute his eyes were drooping, and then next a large paw was gently shaking him awake, Frisk giggling in the background.

“Dinner’s ready, dear,” Toriel’s soft voice made Sans smile a little, and he followed the small crowd into the kitchen.

 

The dinner was spectacular, which was to be expected. The whole group chatted, laughed, punned and smiled. Sans would’ve had an amazing time if his day hadn’t been spoiled by a certain robot. His head was still spinning from lack of sleep and the vision he’d had. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Did his visions even mean anything? Sometimes he thought he saw something in them, but most of the time they were just images of death and fear. The few times he'd tried to bring it up with Papyrus, it had always ended in confusion. papyrus just assumed he was having nightmares. 

And about Papyrus... did he really like that tin can? He couldn’t help glancing at his brother, scanning his face for a hint, a clue,  _ anything _ that would tell him something. Every possible fear had run through his head: Was Mettaton stalking Papyrus? Was Mettaton blackmailing him? Had that son-of-a-bitch already needled his way into Papyrus’ life, doing God-knows-what?

“Would you all care for some dessert? We have ice cream,” Toriel asked, snapping Sans out of his thoughts

“Ice cream!” Frisk exclaimed, wiggling about in their chair.

“Heh, sounds pretty  _ ice _ to me.”

“I as well, would greatly appreciate some ice cream!” Papyrus interjected, not wanting to be left out. Toriel chuckled, getting up. Papyrus eagerly offered to take care of the dishes, to which Toriel gratefully accepted. That left Sans to entertain the kiddo.

“Hey kid.”

Frisk giggled, scooting closer. “Yeah?”

“I ever tell you I was gonna get a brain transplant?”

They seemed confused. “Uh-uh?”

“Well I didn’t.  _ Changed my mind _ .”

Frisk absolutely cackled, playfully pushing on Sans’ arm. They perked up suddenly. “Oh, oh! I remember one, MK told it to me… uh… oh!” They cleared their throat as if they were going to recite a poem. “‘To write with a broken pencil is pointless!’” 

Sans chuckled, giving the kid a genuine smile. Despite his sometimes suspicion of them, they were a little ball of sunshine. He really was a paranoid bag of bones. He ruffled the kid’s hair.

“Heh, you sure are somethin’ squirt.” His text conversation with Toriel came to him suddenly. What must this kid be going through? He didn’t really want to bring it up outright. But he wanted to hear what Frisk had to say. “Say, Frisk. How’s life been for ya? We don’t talk enough.”

Frisk shrugged, seeming a little confused by the turn of conversation. “Okay.”

Sans raised an eye ridge. “Okay? Not spectacular or great? Not splendiferous?”

Frisk giggled. “That’s not a word!”

“Sure it is.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yuh-huh! There’s no little red lines underneath it is there?”

“That’s ‘cuz you’re saying it, silly!”

He shrugged. “Hey, you’re a smart kid. Google it in your free time.” He picked up a fork. “You hear about the new silverware factory? They built it at a fork in the road.”

Frisk snorted, rolling their eyes. They gasped, eyes lighting up, but with a glint of anger in them. “You remember when I told you that that kid from school was messing with my stuff?”

Sans frowned a little. “Yeah?”

“Well guess what  _ I _ did?” They beamed mischievously.

“ _What?_ ”

They leaned in close, as if they were going to tell a secret. “I put a  _ toad _ in his lunchbox!”

“ _ No. _ Way. What’d the little turd do?”

“He screamed and it jumped on his face! Guess what I did then?”

“What?”

“I–” they were abruptly cut off as Toriel came back, carrying a tray with bowls of ice cream on it. She seemed peeved that they were having  _this_ conversation.

“Frisk, here, proceeded to catch the poor creature and flirt with Jeremy.” She rolled her eyes. “I just don’t understand you sometimes, my dear.”

“Aw,  _ Mo-om _ , I was gonna tell him.”

Sans chuckled. “That sounds  _ toad _ -ally ridiculous.”

Everyone was laughing when Papyrus came in. “What’s all the hubbub about?” He huffed, mildly annoyed and throwing his arms up in the air. “Ugh, why do I even bother? Knowing you lot, it’s probably some terrible pun!”

“You nailed it, bro.”

“With a hammer!” Frisk blurted.

“ _ AUGH!”  _ Papyrus shrieked. “Why must my closest friends be so terribly obsessed with terrible jokes?”

“Naw, it could be worse bro.”

Papyrus rolled his eyes. “Barely.”

Sans shrugged. “We could still be in the Underground, bro.” The awkward silence that followed suddenly made Sans realize what he had said. In any other company it would’ve been fine. But with the kid there… Sans apologized profusely. “Heh. Uh. Sorry.” Profusely in this case meaning really uncomfortably.

“Well. Um. I suppose you’re right,” Papyrus said. “But, uh, anyway… uh, let’s have dessert!”

Sans could help but notice the kid had grown silent, eating their ice cream without a smile or a giggle. Man, had he screwed up this time. He wasn’t even sure why he’d said that. Disgusting. He was such a disgusting thing. He couldn’t even keep his mouth shut. No sympathy here. Why’d he have to be such an asshole?

He suddenly didn’t feel like eating his ice cream.

Excusing himself, he made his way to the bathroom. He couldn’t even apologize right. And what did he do about it? Hid in the bathroom, like some kinda freak. Well, at least the bathroom was a nice one. Neutral colors, herbal soaps, neatly kept. Pretty much as he always found it when he came over to Toriel’s. And there he was, standing in the mirror with some sort of smug smile like he owned the place. He let the smile go, pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eye sockets. God, everything hurt. It hurt like hell. He just wanted the pain to go away. His skull ached, his ribs ached, his  _ soul ached. _ He ached and ached and ached. And at the same time he felt nothing. 

Absolutely nothing. 

It was so hard to understand and he didn’t even try to understand. He buried his head in his hands, shaking.  _ ‘Why? Why am I like this?’  _ he thought, mind reeling. Collapsing on the floor, he felt himself shutting down. Black spots appeared in his vision, blue tears forming in his eye sockets. He just wanted to let it all go. Forever. He didn’t want to leave Papyrus or Toriel or Frisk but he thought that maybe they’d be better off without him. He knew they’d be better off without him. Without him around they’d be happy. They wouldn’t have to worry about him, and…

He heaved in shaky breaths. He couldn’t just leave. He couldn’t just kill himself. He knew they cared for him. Picturing them, heartbroken and confused, without him… it wouldn’t solve anything. He didn’t want to solve anything, but he didn’t want to make things worse for them.

Maybe someday they would understand.

He let go and the the black voids in his sight overtook him, swallowing him whole and he continued to ache, finally passing out.

 

When Sans woke up, he was sitting in the passenger seat of Papyrus’ car. Papyrus wasn’t saying anything. That was a surprise. Sans’ head hurt. His whole everything hurt. Why was he sitting in the car? Why was it so dark out? Where were they? He groaned, rubbing his head. The void in his ribcage was painful.

“Oh,  _ now _ you wake up,” Papyrus said, glancing at him. Was that venom in his voice? Papyrus sighed. “Sorry. Are you alright, brother?”

_ ‘Nope. Not in a hundred years am I alright,’ _ he thought with dejection. “Yeah… Ugh, what happened? Where are we going?” Glancing out the window at streetlights zooming by hurt his head even more.

“Home. Or a hospital if you need it.” He paused. “You were taking a long time in the bathroom so I came to check on you. I found you asleep on the floor. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah… guess I’m just tired. Haven’t been sleepin’ very good.” That was something of an understatement.

“Hm. Maybe it would be good for you to take some more time off from work.”

Music to his nonexistent ears. But the guilt forming in his chest told him he couldn’t take that offer. “Naw… I gotta be an active member of our family, right?” He didn’t want to be a freeloader. Well, he did, but the guilt would kill him before anything else did. He closed his eyes. “Can’t depend on you for everything, bro.”

“If you’re not feeling well–”

“I’m fine. Everything’s… fine. Splendiferous.” He yawned. “Just need a good night’s sleep is all.”

Papyrus seemed hesitant to believe it. “Really?”

“Really… really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always any comments and feedback are super helpful, and are really motivating! Hope you've enjoyed!


	8. No Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, we're getting towards the end of this thing! The next few chapters are probably going to be a little shorter. I've been anticipating writing this for awhile, I hope you enjoy!*

Rain pattered down, slapping the pavement with heavy droplets.  Everything was a gray blur– Sans didn’t know where he was. All he knew was that he was cold. So, so cold. His bones felt like ice. And he was hungry. Man, he would kill for a burger or something right now. But the coldness, the hunger, the everything was drowned out by the aching in and around him. The air seemed to hurt because of him. The rain dripped in pain. The pavement creaked and ached beneath him.

There was something in his pocket. Smooth and papery. Something about it seemed familiar. He wanted to take it out, but he didn’t want it to get ruined by the rain. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know what it was. It was killing him. Everything in him felt the need to take it out and look at it, but he knew it wouldn’t be the same after the rain got to it.

Putting one foot in front of the other, he started walking. Didn’t know where, didn’t know why. He just walked through the endless sheets of rain that drenched him. Wind picked up, whistling through his eye sockets, tugging at his hoodie. He barely heard the hollow _thnk_ sounds as rain dashed against his skull. Empty.

Through the gray blur of the rain Sans felt eyes watching him, staring, boring holes into his back. It felt like it would push him over any minute now. He walked faster. And faster. And faster. But he couldn’t walk fast enough. He ran. Ran as fast as his legs could carry him, running…running… running… running…

_Running…_

He fell, skidding on the pavement, the rain pushing him down, each drop feeling like the weight of the world on his back. He couldn’t get up. The piece of paper was crumpled up in his hand, ink running. His fingers creaked open. It was a picture. Most of the ink was blurred out completely, but he saw a smile. A real smile. A good smile. It was a smile that made him think he’d known it from somewhere. Familiar. Even as he watched, it melted away, his own smile disappearing with the rain and eyes watching him.

He tried to stand up, but it was no use. Each drop of rain was a like a bullet, freezing him and cursing him to a life of nothingness. A non-life.

The rain seemed to swell, if that was even possible, thin layer of water covering the asphalt rising, rising, inch by terrible inch. He didn’t even try to move or get away. He didn't care. He let the water cover him, take away his breath, take away his life, take everything away from him, like ink running off a piece of paper.

He was a distorted mess and he was gone and he was dead.

 

Waking up from a vision that left what could only be described as a metallic taste in his skull, Sans sighed. 3 am. He lit a cig, not bothering with the window anymore. Three days had passed since meeting with Mettaton. That piece of junk still hadn’t said anything about his smoking. It felt like any moment the bomb would drop and Sans would be left alone. Deserted. At this point, Sans wasn’t sure if smoking was the biggest problem in his life anymore. Hell, he knew it wasn’t. That didn’t stop him from not saying anything, though. He couldn’t help but wonder how much Papyrus wasn’t telling him. Maybe… Maybe Mettaton had been right about something. Maybe he was underestimating Papyrus’ knowledge of things. Maybe he was holding him back. He gritted his teeth at the thought.

 _“You’re holding him back...”_ Mettaton’s voice kept playing through his head, whispering and yelling and scaring Sans. A record on repeat. Fury no longer built up in his chest when he remembered those words– only desperation and numbness now. He was afraid that Mettaton was telling the truth.

Sans had a feeling he was.

 

“Oh, Sans, Toriel called! She’s wondering if you could keep an eye on Frisk this afternoon, because she has a bunch of student-teacher meetings after school,” Papyrus said, noticing Sans walk into the kitchen with a sleepy demeanor.

“Okay.” Sans yawned, laying his head on the table.

“She asked if I could come, but, alas, I have work to do this afterno _ohah-shit!_ ” Sans perked up immediately and saw that Papyrus had spilled a lot of boiling water on the floor and on his uniform.

“You okay bro?” Sans asked.

“Urgh… yes, yes, I am _quite_ fine. Nyeh-heh, it’ll dry. Um. It just stings a bit, but it’ll be fine.” He quickly cleaned up the mess and sat down at the table before Sans could inquire anymore. “Anyway, was your sleep any better last night?”

Sans shrugged, poking at his breakfast. “Yeah, I guess.”

An awkward silence seemed to drag its claws through time, not wanting to let go. Sans involuntarily cringed when Papyrus started talking about this, that, and the other thing– and Mettaton. Sans couldn’t help but tune him out– he couldn’t stand to hear anymore about the robot. He didn’t want to know if what Mettaton said was true or not. Not from his own brother.

Eventually Papyrus left for work, as did Sans. He’d called Caffee and asked if they needed him today, to which Shelby gave an exuberant ‘ _yes!’_ It was strange, the way she had said it, but Sans didn’t want to think too much about it. He hadn't been in to work the last two days because Papyrus had insisted he stay home and rest. He'd persuaded him to stay and sleep. But he couldn't sleep.

 

“It’s good to have you back, Sans,” Shelby said, smiling. “We were worried you’d quit.”

Sans snorted in disbelief as he put the apron that served as a uniform on. “Heh, I was worried you’d fire me. Thanks for keepin’ me on.”

“Not a problem. Just don’t make this a habit, okay?”

“Uh… you got it.” He didn’t plan on making a habit out of his brother being mentally strained and making the news.

Taking his place at the cash register, Sans realized Allen was talking to him. It sure had been awhile since he’d seen this guy. He seemed excited to have him back, although Sans could barely register what he was saying. ‘ _Inhale… exhale… just smile and nod,’_ Sans thought, smiling and nodding.

“...Oh, and guess what we added to the menu? Walnut surprise!”

“Walnut surprise?”

Allen lowered his voice, winking. “All we know is that there are walnuts in it. Dan won’t tell us what else is in it. Oh! Here comes the breakfast rush, better get to work!”

And so the breakfast rush began. Sans was overwhelmed all over again, but he hid it behind a smile and the occasional pun between him and the other staff members. Despite all the apparent ‘fun’ he was having, he couldn’t help but notice that more people were staring at him. More than usual. He assumed it was because they were regulars and were surprised to see a monster return to this establishment, not to mention he and his brother’s story had been in the news for awhile. He tried to ignore them, but there was only so much xenophobia he could ignore.

“Sans!” someone said, getting his attention. To his surprise, an old friend from the Underground stood on the other side of the counter. Correction: Two old friends from the Underground.

“Oh hey, Dogamy, Dogaressa. What’ll you be havin’?” He asked. There wasn’t a line, and there weren’t many people in the store, so Sans decided he could chat with them for a bit. They’d never been super close, but they were friendly with each other.

They ordered and paid. “How’ve things been with you, Sans?” Dogamy snuffled in a friendly manner.

“Oh yes, dear, how are you and your brother?” Dogaressa woofed in an equally friendly manner.

“We’re doin’ okay. How’ve you two been?”

“Wonderful!”

“Great!”

They both seemed very happy and pleased with themselves. In unison they said, “We just _love_ our job at the Shelter!”

“Oh yes!”

“We work at a shelter for young’uns!”

“They absolutely adore us.”

“It’s called Happy Life Daycare.”

“It’s funny, all these adults bring in these small pups to be taken care of… but all of them change their minds and take them back before the end of the day!”

“We must be so good at their jobs, they all just feel so guilty for trying to get rid of them!”

The nuzzled their noses happily, holding hands. Sans was happy for them, although they seemed to be a tad confused about their occupation.

“Well, s’long as the little, uh, pups enjoy their time there, I suppose it’s all good–”

“What the– what are these… _things_ doing in here?” Before anyone could register what was going on, a middle-aged man grabbed Dogamy and Dogaressa by the shirts, throwing them back from the counter. They yelped in terror, crashing into a table. Allen (and it seemed everyone else) was frozen in shock at what had just happened. Indignation and terror and fury burst into Sans’ chest. In the back of his mind he _knew_ something must have been wrong with this man… but that didn’t matter. Not in that terrifying moment. With the snap of his fingers Sans had the man pinned against the wall, smothered in blue magic, twisting and writhing in fear and confusion and… some other emotion Sans didn’t bother to translate.

“ _WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!”_ someone yelled. He wasn’t sure if it was him or Allen or Shelby, but the next thing he knew someone was holding him back, and the man was staring at him, with the look of someone who had just looked death in the face and lived. Dogamy and Dogaressa had fled, fear in their eyes. A faceless person was escorting the man away. Shelby had a firm arm on his shoulder.

Everything had happened so fast, that Sans was having trouble catching his breath. Someone was talking to him, but everything felt distant and fuzzy and not quite real.

Shelby suddenly forced him to look at him, snapping him out his dazed state.

“Sans. You need to _leave._ ” Her face did not look concerned or sad. It looked mad and scared.

“...R… right.”

And so he left.

 

Somehow, some way, Sans found himself standing outside Grillby’s. An empty pack of cigarettes was hiding in his pocket, and Sans was pretty sure he’d just smoked the whole thing. It was tempting to say ‘hi’ to Grillby. He wanted to go in, see his old friends, see Grillby, pretend he was back in Snowdin, if only for an hour or two. But he knew it wouldn’t help. Not really.

So he continued to walk.

He’d been walking for who-knows-how-long. At least a couple of hours. Probably longer. Checking his phone, he was surprised to see it was almost four in the afternoon. Damn. He must’ve really spaced out or something. It hadn’t felt like it had been that long. He felt like he was forgetting something, but he shrugged it off. That was just like him. Gross. Inconsiderate. Scared.

God, he was so scared. He was scared of all these people around him. He was scared that he would run into that man again. He was scared he would have to tell Papyrus about what had happened. He was scared of Mettaton. He was scared about what his friends would think of him. He was paralyzed by the fear of his friends leaving him forever. He would miss them. He would miss Papyrus, Toriel, Grillby… Frisk. He would miss that little goober so much. Despite the warnings in his head, he really fucking cared for that kid.

His phone rang. And then he realized he was supposed to keep an eye on Frisk this afternoon. It hit him like a brick cracking his skull. School got out at 3:45. He let out a stream of profanity, frustrated with himself, ignoring the concerned looks of those passing by. His phone was still ringing. Sure enough, it was Toriel. His finger hovered over the answer button. She would be angry. Furious. He’d forgotten Frisk. He’d forgotten everyone. He’d forgotten himself.

He hung up and stuffed his phone into his pocket, guilt dripping from his eye sockets as he walked in no particular direction. Every time his phone rang it was like he was being stabbed. Over and over again. And then the knife was left in his chest, ringing stopped. That was worse. It was the finalization of something. Something Sans didn’t want to know about.

And then his phone buzzed. Despite his better judgement, he looked at his phone. Toriel had texted him.

**-Sans, is everything alright?**

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to respond. So, so, _so_ badly. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell Papyrus everything. He wanted to run to them both and spill every secret he’d been holding ever since he’d been turned into this mess of bones.  But he couldn’t. It would break their hearts and it would hurt and they couldn't help, nobody could help and he would just drag them down with him, down into the depths of his despair and confusion and sorrow–

“ _You would just hold them back.”_

It stung him. The truth stung him. He faltered in his walk, leaning against a wall blindly. Not only would he keep Papyrus back… but everyone else he cared about. They’d be so worried about him that they would give up their dreams. Their lives. He didn’t want that. He couldn’t have that. He didn’t deserve that.

“ _You are holding them back."_

He was. It was true. He couldn’t deny it anymore. He contributed nothing good to his friend’s lives. If he didn’t exist… their lives would be better.

Sans suddenly realized he had no idea where he was. He’d never been to this part of the city before. It didn’t look as friendly. He sighed. Maybe he should just go home. Stop scaring Toriel. Forget this day had ever happened. It was less tempting than just leaving forever, but it would also be easier on his part. Where’d he park his moped again? He cringed, turned around, headed back, really wishing he had more cigarettes.

Was someone at fault for how he felt? Besides himself… he could only name Mettaton and any stupid human he’d come in contact with. He gritted his teeth. Perhaps he felt the need to place the blame on someone else for how he was acting because he couldn’t really explain it. He wasn’t sure. But his hatred for a certain robot grew with every step he took. What was that guy’s deal? Sans had never done anything to him. Mettaton had no reason to be so despicable to him.

Sans’ phone rang, stopping him in his tracks. He leaned against the wall of an alleyway. Papyrus? Why was Papyrus calling him? If there was anyone Sans felt he could talk to… it would be him. Maybe. But he didn’t want to explain what he was doing. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He answered, trying to hold back his turmoil.

“Hey.”

“Sans, where are you?” Was that panic in his voice?

He looked around. He had no idea. “Just walkin’ around.”

Papyrus sounded conflicted. “Well–hm–ah… are you doing okay? T-Toriel called and said you never showed up to keep an eye on Frisk.”

 _‘Damnit,’_ he thought bitterly. Of course Toriel had called. “I forgot.”

He heard Papyrus mutter something under his breath. Papyrus never did that. “When are you coming home? I, uh… k-kinda had something to tell you.”

Sans felt frozen to the spot. Papyrus was acting weird. “C… can you tell me now?”

“I’d rather talk to you face-to-face.”

“Please… tell me now. I…” ‘ _I don’t know when I’m coming home. I don’t know if I’m coming home. I don’t know what I’m doing.’_ “Please. You can tell me now.”

“ _Sans._ This isn’t something that can be discussed over the phone!” Papyrus said, voice raising in a sort of desperation. Sans tried to gather his words, feeling very very small all of a sudden.

“Papyrus, _please_. I can handle it over the phone. Tell me.”

“Only if you tell me where you are!”

Sans tried to say something, but his jaw was left hanging loose. “I… I can’t.” He could barely hear his own voice.

“Can you find any street signs? Anything? _Why can’t you tell me where you are?”_ He was yelling with a sort of fear in his voice, a tone that scared Sans even more. “Please, I just… I just want to talk to you. In person.”

“I can’t… I’m sorry, but I can’t! I… I don’t know where I am. I can’t…”

“Sans…” There was a long pause. Too long. Too, too long. Finally, Papyrus spoke. “I just… can you…” He huffed, frustrated.  “Look. I just have to g-get something off my chest okay?”

A black hole of dread felt like it was going to make Sans implode. Papyrus was going to come clean about Mettaton. He knew it. He just knew it. And with that confession, that final confession, Papyrus would leave him forever. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let that asshole win. 

“ _No.”_ He hadn’t meant to say it outloud. He really, really, really, _really_ hadn’t meant to.

“W… _what?_ Sans–” The despair in his voice would’ve killed Sans if he hadn’t been shaking so much. “Sans… w-what… what d-do you mean…”

Sans didn’t say anything. He was too scared of what he’d just done.

“ _S-sans_ …” his voice was cracking. He was having trouble talking. Papyrus was never like this. Papyrus had never been taken down by a single word, much less a word from him. Papyrus was so much different from what Sans remembered him to be. He wasn't even sure if what he remembered was right.

He was breaking.

Sans hung up.

The emptiness that was left hit Sans full force, dread and every horrible feeling he'd ever felt bringing him to his knees.He let tears creep down his face, noiseless sobs escaping him as he shook and cried and felt himself cracking inside. He was a wreck. A fucking wreck. Nothing could save him now. No one could, would, or should save him. He was a goner. Disgusting, wretched, unlovable. The sins crawling on his back were too numerous and overwhelming for him to count. He was a terrible brother.

He’d abandoned Papyrus just like he thought everyone would abandon him.

“ _No-no-no-no-no-no…”_ his breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to do. His mind was unstable, his soul threatening to combust. So he stopped everything and froze, eye sockets shut tight. He shut everything out. He forced himself to forget everything, but it didn’t really work. He was lost. Physically and mentally lost. He was lost and no one could save him.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled.

  


Sans wasn’t sure how he’d recovered– he really hadn’t recovered –but the next thing he knew, he was sitting at a booth at Grillby’s, head on the table. How long had he been there? It felt like he’d been sleeping. A dull throbbing in his soul wouldn’t stop, aching as if he was going to burst any second. He kept his eyes closed, pretending he was still asleep. There was little to no chatter, only the muffled sound of a TV playing somewhere in the corner. The buzz of neon lights gave the atmosphere a strange sort of electricity, setting Sans on edge.

What was he doing here? Nothing here could help him. Nothing could fix him. Why had he come here? Grillby probably had no idea what was going on in his life. He had no right to. Maybe Sans wanted someone to talk to. Someone familiar. Someone he hadn’t seen in awhile. But Sans didn’t want to talk. He didn’t even know if he could talk. What was the point in talking? It would be too much. It wouldn’t do anything for him in the end. There wasn’t any point in it. Maybe he could hide here. Maybe…

He heard movement as someone sat across the booth from him. The smell and heat told Sans that it was Grillby. Sans lifted his eyes slowly, not bothering with a smile. Grillby was looking at him, face impossible to read for someone who didn’t know him. Sans knew him well enough to see he was concerned. He wasn’t saying anything. Neither of them said anything.

The crackle of flames signified the clearing of a throat.

“ _Anything I can get you?”_

Sans shook his head dazedly.

“ _Nothing?”_

He shook his head again. Grillby let out a puff of smoke.

“ _Look. It ain’t any of my business… but is something wrong?”_ He waited for a response, but Sans refused to look at him. After a moment, he continued. “ _I heard about what happened on the news. Is that what this is about?”_

Sans shrugged. He honestly didn’t know. He didn’t know what any of this was about. He didn’t even know what ‘this’ was. Sometimes it felt like it was all in his head, sometimes it felt like it was too big for him to comprehend. Sometimes he didn’t feel at all.

“ _I’ve known you for the entire time you moved to Snowdin, Sans. I can tell when something is wrong.”_

Bony fingers balled up into fists. What was he doing here? Grillby couldn’t help him. Talking to Grillby was just dragging things along, painfully, oh so painfully. He should’ve left. Everything was going down the drain, everything was happening too fast. If he’d had a plan it would’ve been ruined by now. He shut his eye sockets tight, bones rattling. He was such a fucking _idiot!_

“ _Hey. I don’t know what this is about, but you need to calm down, Sans…”_

Sans couldn’t calm down. He couldn’t look at Grillby directly. He couldn’t look at anything directly. He couldn’t do anything but stare at the opposite wall. A commercial played on the TV. Trinkets from the old Grillby’s gathered dust on the walls, new things set off to the side, standing out. A certificate was hung behind the bar, a dollar bill attached to it. Someone Sans vaguely recognized sat in the far corner, back to them. Sans eyes rested on the TV, not really paying attention to it.

“ _I’m not sure I can be of any help.”_ A pause. _“But I hope you know there are a lot of people who care about you.”_

“They shouldn’t.” His voice sounded like a lightbulb burning out: tiny and hollow. “It would be easier if they didn’t.”

Grillby was silent for a minute, pondering. The silence was killing Sans.

And then it hit him.

He wanted to die. He _wanted_ to die. He actually longed for it. For so long, _so long_ , it had been what he wanted. He’d never done anything about it. He’d never really acknowledged it. He just thought things and let them be. But now, seeing how Grillby was responding to his words, everything clicked. When everyone had still been in the Underground, he’d viewed the surface as an escape. Everyone had. He hadn’t exactly thought of death. He’d thought of change. He’d thought escaping the Underground would bring about a change that would save him.

And that had never happened.

It was worse up here. Humans were fickle and despicable and confusing.

Life wasn’t good. There were no miracles here. No happy endings. The stories were wrong.

Sans wanted to go back, but he knew going back wouldn’t change anything. It would be just the same. He would always want to die. No matter where he went he would always long for nonexistence.

“ _Sans, please listen to me.”_

He didn’t respond, eyes glued to the TV.

“ _Whether you think your friends should care about you or not… they really do. I do. Papyrus does. Toriel does–”_

A bright pink commercial flashed onto the screen, and Sans had to look away. Back at Grillby. He smiled wanly. “ _I know_. I know. And it’s killing me.” He chewed on his words for a second, the Mettaton commercial jingle physically hurting him. He didn’t want to scare Grillby. He didn’t know if Grillby had Papyrus’ number or not. He assumed not. “But… I think I understand now. I understand myself. I… get it.”

Grillby seemed confused by the sudden change. “ _...Okay. Are you gonna be okay?”_

“Heh. I’m fine.” He glanced at the TV. Mettaton. That son-of-a-bitch. Smiling on the TV as if everything was good. It made Sans sick. He wanted to wipe that smile off of his face, just like Mettaton had with him. “Everything’s fine.”

“ _Are you sure?”_

“Yup.” He stood up, Grillby continuing to stare at him. “Heh. Whelp. This has been a good talk… but I gotta go.”

“ _Where?”_

Sans paused. Why was that commercial still playing? Where _was_ he going? Right now he wanted to be nothing… he also wanted to see Mettaton suffer. If only a little bit. God, he was thinking like some sort of maniac or something. But he wasn’t scared. He was at peace with himself. It was time. Time for him. Time for him to accept himself. “I gotta get somethin’ straight with a certain metal man.”

He moved to leave, but Grillby caught his shoulder, warmth surprising Sans. “... _Please think about whatever you’re going to do. Don’t do anything too…”_ his flickering voice faltered. Sans pushed his hand away with a smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Grillbz,” he said as he left, beaming. “No need to get a hot-head over this. We both know a pyrotechnician should know how fireworks.” He laughed. His smile disappeared suddenly, as he turned his back to Grillby. "And I've got a history with sparks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*enjoy actually means suffer btw >:3c)
> 
> Things will only get worse before they get better.  
> If they get better.
> 
> As always, any feedback or comments are really helpful for my writing motivation!


	9. No Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man oh man oh man  
> This sure was something to write  
> Only 3 chapters left guys  
> time to suffer*

In the dark, Mettaton’s mansion looked like a haunted rave party for the rich. On nights that were particularly quiet, one could hear the faint booming of a beat and a bass that could kill if anyone was nearby. Lights on the outside flickered as nighttime wildlife alerted motion-sensors, and multicolored flashes were lit up on the inside, travelling from room to room like some lost banshee, singing and screeching of death and despair. The pinks seemed to be a strange form of red at night, bloody against the sequins and stars. 

There were no stars this night. Clouds formed above, thunder growing in the distance. Sans didn’t care if Mettaton saw him coming. Maybe if he saw him coming, the scrap heap would kill Sans and make his job easier for him.

The gate wasn’t difficult to get past. The bars were far enough apart that Sans could easily squeeze past them. The difficult part was the trek up the winding driveway. It was scattered with red and pink lights, illuminating the night with an eerie sort of dread.

Deciding it would be best to not tread on the lit path, Sans crouched through the bushes, hidden by the darkness. With every step he took, he felt a little less sure about what he was doing. Eventually he stopped, standing up. He was halfway up the hill to the mansion. Hatred burned in his soul, seeing this place. He did not have a plan. He had no idea what he was doing. All he knew was that he needed closure. Some sort of closure before he ended it all.

What that was, he’d just have to see.

He pressed on, shivering as the wind began to pick up.

The wind felt old and ancient, as if it was bringing a storm that had been brewing for millennia. It had a strange sort of mustiness to it, and it only made Sans more determined to see this through… whatever it was. The air was whistling with unspoken lightning, small flash-booms in the distance. It wasn’t raining yet, but the smell of rain was being carried by the wind, almost acidic. It was energizing and terrifying, but Sans wouldn’t give up. He trudged on, ignoring the motion-sensing lights that lit up in his face. He stared them down, jaw set grimly. That metal bastard knew he was coming. Sans felt many eyes watching him, staring in sick, sadistic satisfaction as he made his way up. Sans had a feeling they’d both be in for a surprise in the end.

Doubts tried to tell him to turn back. They screamed at him through the wind, but he refused to listen to them. Doubting now meant giving up, giving into the fear he was drowning in, the fear he’d been drowning in his entire life. No more. No more of that crap. For the short period left in his life, Sans refused to feel afraid. Especially of a manipulating shit like Mettaton.

Lights bore into Sans from above. 

He’d made it to the front door. It was clear that Mettaton knew he was there. Sans tried the door, but it wouldn’t open. A quick scan of the walls and he made eye contact with the house.

“Hey, you piece of shit. We gotta talk about somethin’...” he said, voice hollow in his skull. “Ya hear me, trashcan? Let me in.” No response. It seemed that the metal beast was thinking. Sans bristled. He wasn’t giving this guy any more power than he needed to. He blinked and his eye burned blue, his magic aura shifting around his hand. “I said…  _ Let me in.” _

The door was flung open before could destroy it. Damn. Whatever music had been playing was gone now. There were no lights to be reflected by the sequins and the mirrors. The echoes of thunder made the chandeliers twinkle, slight movement creating a noise like fairy-dust. Sans walked in, door closing behind him quietly. He’d tear the place down if he had to. He knew he could just say what he wanted, and the scrap heap would hear him. But there was an unspoken challenge from Mettaton:  _ “Find my body, and we’ll talk.”  _ The halls beckoned him, lifeless and empty. Phantom ballerinas danced around Sans, whispers unheard. Static filled the air, filled the mansion, filled his ribs. Everything was electric. Everything was anticipating something. The mirrors showed only darkness as Sans hunted. A reaper for a lost soul. An empty soul for an empty soul. The arms inside the walls stirred and shifted when the skeleton passed. 

It was a haunted house, but Sans wasn’t afraid of no ghosts.

Sans found himself in front of door. It was probably the least expensive door in the entire place. But it was pink. It was what he was looking for. The plain door opened without a single squeak. Well-oiled. Well-used. This was it.

The room was long, and ended in a large cluster of windows at the end, light from the city casting strange shadows on the tall ceiling. The wind from outside whistled against the house. It was dark. Mettaton was a silhouette against the windows, standing with his back to Sans. All doubts were gone now. Whatever happened would happen. But Sans refused to let go of what control he had.

“Hello, Sans.” The mechanical voice was terse, tense even. Sans hoped that meant he was scared. “Tell me why you’re here.” A command. No elaborate words. This would be a fight for power. He continued to look out the window, hands clasped behind his back.

“Nah. Don’t think that’s gonna happen.” Sans took a couple steps forward. The air was taught, as if they were pulling on opposite ends of a rubber band, waiting to see who would get snapped.

Mettaton’s hands clenched, exhaling in slight frustration through his nose. “Why are you here?”

Another step closer. Sans decided he’d humor him, let him think he was winning. “To gut you like the pig you are.” That wasn’t exactly true, but he wanted to scare the tinman.

This made Mettaton glance back at him, turning slightly. “Oh really?”

“Yup. Before that happens though, we gotta talk.”

Mettaton turned around completely, towering over Sans by what felt like a mile. Mettaton smirked, eyes burning red. “Sans,  _ my dear _ … you’ve got something in your eye.”

“It’s a little thing called hatred,  _ ‘dear’ _ ,” Sans sneered.

Mettaton let out a dark chuckle. “Why, Sans, would you hate  _ moi? _ I’ve only ever tried to help.” His voice was sing-song and sweet like syrup. “Admit it,  _ my dude _ . You’ve got a problem.”

“My problems ain’t any of your business, pal.” He took another step forward. It was strange how he wasn’t scared of him any more. Maybe it was because he felt like he had nothing to lose. “You’re just a nosy, sadistic, manipulative son-of-a-bitch who doesn’t know how to deal with monsters like me. I don’t know why, but for some reason you’ve decided to ruin my life.”

“Ruin your life? I just said I was trying to help.”

“You call blackmailing ‘help’?”

Mettaton tilted his head, looking at Sans as if he were something the cat dragged in. An object of disgust that he had to deal with. Sans didn’t blame him. To be fair, he was scum. But that didn’t make him any less angry with the robot. “Heh.” Mettaton leaned down, their faces inches apart. “Darling, I think you’re mistaken. My helping was for your brother.  _ He _ asked for my help.”

For a moment Sans slipped. Papyrus asked this guy for help? Papyrus talked to Mettaton? Papyrus sought advice from this asshole? Papyrus hadn’t come to Sans? Sans composed himself. It had to be a lie. It  _ had _ to be. “Papyrus would never stoop so low as to talk to you–”

“Oh, but he has! On multiple occasions, dear. We meet. We text. We  _ talk _ .” Mettaton was beaming in triumph. “He does talk  _ so much _ about you, gorgeous. You see, your dear brother worries ever so much about you. He came to me one day and asked if I, his dear friend, could talk some sense into you–”

“ _ No.” _ It couldn’t be true. He knew Papyrus had always had a thing for Mettaton… but not like this. Why would Papyrus do this? And not say  _ anything  _ to his brother?

“It’s true dear. You want proof?  _ I’ve got proof _ .” One of the walls off to the right lit up, Mettaton twisting Sans towards it violently. 

It was a camera view of the parking lot area outside Mettaton’s place. Sans’ eye sockets widened when a familiar red car pulled into a spot. Sans felt physically and mentally sick when Papyrus stepped out, smiling and humming something. He was still wearing his police uniform. His brother didn’t even knock or ring a doorbell when he got to the door– he just strolled in like he owned the place.

The camera changed to the foyer, a view of Papyrus walking eagerly down the hall, not even noticing the hands taking his things and holding them at a distance for later. The view changed rapidly, following him as he ran down the halls, looking for Mettaton.

“ _ Mettaton! Mettaton, I have some wonderful news!” _ His voice echoed dully on Sans’ skull.

He watched in a strange sort of horror as Papyrus found the robot and promptly gave him a bear hug, the two spinning around and giggling.

“ _ What is it? _ ” Mettaton purred, the two of them sitting down on a fancy couch. A tray of tea was served, Papyrus thanking him politely.

_ “Oh, thank you… Nyeh-heh, the other night, I, the Great Papyrus, and Sans had a talk. I think he’s been really honest with me lately! He told me about how he’s dealing with humans at work. Sort of like what I’ve been dealing with–” _

_ “You  _ are _ going to do something about that, right?” _ Mettaton interrupted, sounding concerned. Sans noticed with dread that Mettaton’s gloved hand was rested on Papyrus’ knee.

“ _ Oh, yes, yes, I’ve filed a complaint just today! Anywho, I think it’s only a matter of time before everything with Sans and I gets back to normal. He’s still seeing Toriel too! I think she’s doing a wonderful deal of good for him. She’s such a nice woman.” _

_ “I’ve heard.” _

Papyrus took a sip of his tea. “ _ I do hope he’s doing okay, though. Last week he did nothing but watch TV and… be in his room. I don’t know what he’s doing in there. I worry about him sometimes. He tells all these jokes but sometimes it just doesn’t look like he means it. In Snowdin he always looked like meant it. I… I think the Surface has really changed him. And.. and me.” _

_ “Oh? What do you mean, dear?” _ Mettaton actually looked genuinely concerned. If Sans had a stomach, he would’ve thrown up, then and there.

Papyrus shrugged. “ _ I suppose… I think I see things differently now. Ever since… well… hm. I just… see people now and I wonder if they… they would ever want to h-hurt someone. If they… w-would…” _ Papyrus was having trouble with his words. He was stuttering. Papyrus,  _ Papyrus  _ of all people, was having problems speaking. How had Sans been so blind? Papyrus hadn’t been cured of his trauma. He was still dealing with it. And Sans wasn’t there to help. 

“ _ Sh… there, there, dear. It’s okay.” _ Mettaton had set his tea aside, and was comforting Papyrus, who was looking down at his own tea with an empty gaze.

The two were quiet for a long time. It left Sans to wonder how long this had been going on. How long had Mettaton been talking with Papyrus? How long had it taken Papyrus to get comfortable with Mettaton touching him? How long had Papyrus kept this a secret?

Eventually Papyrus spoke again. “ _ Sans has been mentioning the Underground a lot lately. Well, not that much. But he brought it up around Frisk… and he said something like, ‘if they… if they can’t see that, we should just go back.’ It’s k-kind of scaring me, Metta. I just wish he c-could see that everything’s gonna be alright.” _ He sighed, looking at Mettaton. “ _ I don’t know what you said to him, but I think it might’ve helped a little, though. Thank you.” _

_ “Oh, it was nothing, dear… You said he’s been very honest with you lately?” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “Did he happen to mention anything… else?” _

_ “Besides his working situation? No. I didn’t want to push him, but I trust that he’s being honest with me. Why?” _

A small pause, Mettaton smiling faintly. “ _ Nevermind that, dear. Let’s hope he gets better soon…”  _ Sans nearly gagged when Mettaton started tracing circles on Papyrus’ shoulder with his finger.

“ _ Yeah. I hope he gets better quick. I just don’t know what’s wrong with him.”  _ He beamed at Mettaton. “ _ Nyeh-heh! I have a feeling things are going to turn around soon. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like… like something  _ big _ is gonna happen. Soon. I can feel it in my bones. Do you think that’s possible? That I could sense something like that?”  _ He laughed it off. “ _ Nevermind, that’s silly. What matters is that I stay by Sans’ side and that we’re honest with each other.” _ He paused. _ “Speaking of… I kind of… wanted to tell him that I’ve been seeing you. I don’t think he’d have any issue with it… but I don’t know. He can be a little… hostile.” _

“ _ If it makes you feel better, go for it, hon.” _

A moment of silence as Papyrus finished his tea. He smiled apologetically when he set the cup down. “ _ Anywho, I’ve been doing all the talking it seems. I’m sorry.” _

_ “Oh, I don’t mind.” _

_ “I just really… really had to get that off m-my chest, ya kno– oh.” _

Papyrus was stopped midsentence, Mettaton inching closer and closer. Panic shot through Sans’ spine. No.  _ No _ . Mettaton held Papyrus, cupping his jaw closer to his. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. Papyrus was letting Mettaton– No, this wasn’t real, this wasn’t happening! Disgust built up in Sans’ soul, for himself, for what he was seeing… the feeling of betrayal was too much for him.

“Like what you see, handsome?” a metal voice purred, dangerously close. The screen went dark, drowning Sans in dread. This was a mistake. This was all a huge, huge mistake. “I’m afraid I’m woefully taken. I’ll just have to–”

Sans let out a yell, unbridled magic blasting Mettaton away from him, blue lighting up the room. Only after the light fizzled out did Sans realize what he saw in the darkness, in that brief flash. It was too late. Snakey metallic hands rushed out of the shadows, dozens upon dozens of them whistling and whirring through the air towards him. Sans was only able to get through a few of them with his magic before he was smothered. It was worse than the vision he’d had. Instead of being pulled and squeezed, the arms pushed him into the ground, threatening to crack his ribs, his skull, fracture his bones, fracture his very soul. He writhed frantically, trying to breathe, trying to get away. Despite the fact that he wanted to die… this was the worst possible way he could think of. Especially after what he had seen. He _ couldn’t _ let Mettaton win.

And suddenly it stopped… instead he felt himself being lifted off the ground by the hands, gloved appendages holding him back. There was a pink aura around Mettaton, although it definitely seemed like Sans had hit him in the chest– there was a huge dent in the pink metal casing. Despite the current situation, that gave Sans some grim satisfaction.

“Don’t think you can win that easily, dear. We’re still here to ‘talk’, right?” Mettaton said, hands lifting him closer. Sans stared at him defiantly. Things were clicking into place, piece by piece. And Sans hated it.

“This doesn’t look like talking,” Sans said.

“Well, I can’t have you trying to ‘gut’ me after every sentence now, right?” A chair appeared out of a panel, Mettaton sitting in it with a smirk. Rain began to patter against the window nearby.

“It doesn’t seem there’s much more to talk about. Now how about you let me go.” Sans was surprised by how dark he sounded. It was strange, but it felt right. He didn’t try to hide any contempt he felt.

“Not a chance, sweetie.”

“Even if I promise not to use my magic?”

Mettaton chuckled. “You can still use your magic, hon. It’s my magic that’s keeping me safe. Let’s just call the arms a… a safeguard, hm?”

Sans felt a burning anger inside of him. And despair. Oh, how he wished he could tear off this guy’s fucking head. “Fair enough. But lay off a little. You cracked my ribs.” To his relief the arms did lay off, if only a little. He closed his eye sockets shut tight, head hanging. He should’ve listened to Grillby. He should’ve stayed on the line with Papyrus. He should’ve done so many things, but he didn’t. Because he was the scum of the Underground. Scum of the Surface. Scum of the entire fucking Earth. And his brother… he didn’t deserve his brother. There was nothing he could do. Not about Papyrus, not about Mettaton.

But he needed something before he died. He needed closure.

“So, what happens now, tincan? You’ve got me where you want me. You’ve shown me what you want me to see.” His fists clenched. “Why do you want me to suffer like this? What have I  _ ever _ done to you?” He fought back tears valiantly, waiting for an answer.

Mettaton was quiet for a long time. Too long. It was like he was drinking in Sans’ sorrow and despair. Sans glanced up at him, and was surprised to see what looked like an expression of distress on the metal man’s face. It couldn’t have been distress. Why would he be distressed? Even as the thought came to him, the expression changed to a dark seriousness.

“Now… now we see what happens when we both crack.” He seemed to be indicating the dent in his casing. He leaned forward, examining Sans’ eye sockets carefully. Sans refused to look away, no matter the cost. He refused even when Mettaton smiled at him. He refused even when Mettaton flicked him on the forehead.

And then Sans pounced, yelling, forcing himself out of the grip of the terrible hands. He knew this was all a crazy stupid thing to be doing. He knew. But,  _ God _ , he wanted to fight. He had to do something. If he couldn’t fight with magic he would fight with his bare hands, goddamnit. So he did.

For the first moment, Mettaton was caught off-guard. It was enough for Sans to land a blow, magic shields momentarily weakened. In all honesty it hurt Sans more than it hurt Mettaton. But it was  _ something _ , something he needed to do, something he needed to feel. And then Mettaton and the chair he was in fell over backwards, sending Sans flying. He hit the window with a  _ thump, _ and nearly blacked out, feeling the beginning of a crack in his skull. 

Struggling to get up and do something, Sans let out a sob. His entire life had changed so drastically so fast. He knew he couldn’t blame his brother, but he couldn’t help but feel betrayed. Papyrus didn’t trust him. Sans didn’t blame him. What was there to trust? He was a liar. A liar who should be wiped off the face of the earth.

“Why you little–” Before Sans could do anything, Mettaton yanked him up off the ground, slamming him against the window. If Sans had lungs he would’ve been choking. Instead he glared at Mettaton, red eyes burning into blue ones. Mettaton’s hair was slightly out of place. Good. He looked angry. Deadly. His voice was dark like the storm brewing outside. “You should be  _ dead _ , you little  _ shit. _ ” 

Sans struggled for a moment and then stopped. He smiled. “Heh… At least we can agree on something.”

A burst of blue flame engulfed them both, sending them both flying backwards, Mettaton into the room, Sans through the window. He didn’t hear the window crash. He didn’t feel glass shards or the semi-cracks in his bones. All he saw was the horrified look on Mettaton’s face, bits of his metallic structure burning and melted, the dent in his chest deeper, a dribble of black liquid dripping from his lips. He’d shocked the show-shocker. They both knew it wasn’t enough to kill him: everything was replaceable, save for Mettaton’s soul.

But it was enough closure for Sans. He’d won. Despite the fact that he was falling from the how high up, down to who knows where, he smiled. Genuinely smiled. It was a coarse, broken smile, but there it was nevertheless.

Everything went black.

  
  


Sans didn’t wake up. Not where he thought he would, anyway. He was sitting at one of his old sentry points, in Hotland. The giant caverns glowed like embers, lava flows swirling in slow motion below. Heat waves distorted colors, making everything look like some sort of twisted nightmare. Sans leaned back in his chair. What had just happened? He didn’t care. It was nice to be here. It was a home away from home. He’d always liked it in Hotland. So warm, so easy to fall asleep. He’d never need a blanket if he’d actually lived in the place. 

Despite the heat, Sans felt cold.

He ignored the urge to shiver, movement up the path catching his attention. Someone was coming, headed towards the Capitol. He couldn’t see who it was. He blinked, and suddenly there were a lot of monsters trailing behind the one. They were gray and faceless to him, their names eluding his grasp. The marched, closer, closer, steady and rhythmic. If they didn’t march, the flew and slithered and creeped. The closer they got, the more Sans could see. All of them were holding something. From where he was he couldn’t quite see what it was, but they all held the same thing.

Sans suddenly felt like he was missing something. Like there was something he was forgetting. He decided he’d ask whoever passed by first.

It took a good amount of time for the first person to get within earshot of Sans. They sure were marching slow.

“Hey, buddy… where are you guys headed?”

They didn’t answer, still approaching.

“Uh… hello?”

They continued marching. Sans watched in a sort of fascination, confused and concerned. The monster only stopped to place the object on the sentry point table-top. It was a white lily.

“Heh… thanks? Where are you going?”

They continued walking, and Sans was surprised to see that the person behind was approaching a little faster. They too placed a lily in front of Sans and continued on their way. Sans wanted to get up and say something, get in the way of the somber progression, but it felt like he was stuck in his chair. It didn’t scare him– in fact, it actually made sense, in a sort of dream-like way. There was really no reason to get up… he just wanted to know where everyone was going, and why they were giving him lilies.

More and more lilies piled up in front of him. Eventually he had to push some off the tabletop, frantically asking as people marched by where they were going. No one answered, only stared at him with sorrowful eyes. The lilies were beginning to overwhelm him. He didn’t want these. He had no use for these things. The more he stared at the ever growing pile the more he thought they were ugly. Ugly like him. Colorless, lifeless with the appearance of living, symbols of death. More and more and more of them piled up, falling over the edges into the lava below, engulfing him in a sickly sweet scent, pushing and pulling him, surrounding him, and down he went, down, down, down. The lava lit everything into flames, bright red flames, burning the blue out of him.

It burned so much he didn’t feel the fire. It didn’t hurt. He wasn’t scared. He was at peace. It was a peace like an unraveling string accepting its fate. A storm knowing it had an end. Peace like a river dying in the ocean.

And so he burned, bones splitting in the heat, everything melty and dazed.

  
  


Rain pattered against Sans’ skull, seeping through the micro-cracks, waking him up. Everything hurt. The tiny fractures, the sorrow, the knowledge of things he didn’t know. He shut his eye sockets tight. He wanted to go back to the fire. The cleansing flames would help him. But no. The rain from the darkness above had put it out. Water trickled through him, tiny rivulets running past him through the soggy earth. He was so cold, but he didn’t have the energy to even shiver. He opened his eye sockets weakly. Pinpricks of city light were reflected in the drops of water, in the scattered shards of glass around him. The thunder was getting closer. Still everything hurt as he closed his eye sockets again.

He would kill for a pack of cigarettes right about now… 

What happened now? He was surprised he hadn’t turned to ash yet. How far had he fallen? He’d been at least two-stories high when he fell. He guessed that probably hadn’t been enough to kill him. He groaned. More work for him, but it made sense. It would be best in the end if it was his responsibility, not something he put in the hands of some robot. Dumb robot.

Ever so achingly slow, Sans propped himself up on his elbows, rolling over onto his back, cringing at the pain it caused him. He’d never been much of a fighter. He got tired too easily. He got hurt too easily. He could really only dodge things.

In the distance Sans heard car traffic, sirens, motors gunning. He opened his eye sockets, only to realize his skull was filling up with water. Sighing was painful. It had to happen tonight. Find the nearest bridge, the nearest high place and just… fall. The job was practically half-over. Maybe he was being melodramatic. Maybe it was the headache and the rib-ache and the spine-ache and the everything-ache. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was right. Maybe, maybe, maybe. All he knew was that this was his last night alive.

He almost choked up when he remembered he hadn’t even said ‘goodbye’ to Papyrus. The last thing Papyrus heard from him was ‘no’. Maybe he should call…

No. That would change his mind. That would ruin everything. That would make this whole nightmare last a little longer. Too much longer. Tonight Sans had a date with fate, and he was eagerly preparing for it.

He heaved himself up into a sitting position. How had he survived that fall? There was so much broken glass stuck in his clothing and his joints. Moving felt like there was hot sand in between everything. Not that he really cared. It was something. It wouldn’t last much longer anyways. Carefully he stood up, bones creaking, legs wobbly, rain water draining out of his skull.

From here he could see the city. He could see the surrounding valley, rolling hills in the distance illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning and city lights. He could see the suburbs, he could see the lit driveway leading up to the entrance of the Mansion. He shivered, absolutely drenched. It seemed like the next gust of wind would topple Sans.

Slowly, clumsily, he took a step forward through the darkness. He was limping. He was dragging his feet. He hugged himself, not bothering to shield his head from the growing storm. No thoughts of fear or doubt hung in his head. For the first time in his life he knew for a indisputable fact that he was not afraid. This thing that he was going to do had to be done. Someone had to do it, and Sans wanted the control in his hands. He had control and he was going to use it. 

With his control, he would do some good for this world. He would leave it. Forever. And never come back.

Step after weary step, he made his way down the hill, towards the gate, practically dragging himself past the gate. 

He left.

He smiled.

He had won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *suffer means have a bad time
> 
> As always comments and feedback are super appreciated! They are really huge motivators for me :3
> 
> (also im probably a BAD person for writing Mettaton like this but I can't help it i love writing evil manipulative Mettaton. Believe me i love Mettaton as much as the next person but daaaang evil Metta sure is somethin')


	10. No Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 more chapters left! Hope you enjoy :3

In retrospect, Sans deathwish plan probably wasn’t the brightest, for at least one reason: there were no large rivers that needed crossing nearby. No bridges. The closest one he could think of meant getting in a car and driving for an hour out of the city. And he didn’t think he could convince anyone to let a bedraggled skeleton onto their roof. So he was left to curse himself under his breath, trudging through the storm. He assumed that if he spent enough time in the storm, he’d die of exposure. He was half-dead anyway. Probably wouldn’t take too long.

Sans found himself sitting in a park he didn’t recognize in the storm. Trees swayed. He swayed. He was tired. Cold. Oddly determined. Icy rain bashed against his side. He just wanted to die. Was that too much to ask? Was it really so much to ask of the world? That he could just leave? Thousands of people, human and monster alike, left the world everyday. So why couldn’t he be one of them? No one would really miss him in the end. Right? He was just holding his friends back. Hell, his own brother didn’t even trust him enough to tell him about his love life. And why should he? They claimed to be honest with each other. But honesty was the last thing on either of their minds. Especially for Sans.

In the end, no one would remember him, and he was fine with that.

He wasn’t worth remembering.

Lightning cracked through the darkness, thunder booming through the chaos. Wind took over the shadows, turning trees into puppets. Sans was surprised nobody’s power had gone out yet. Maybe it had. He wouldn’t have known. He didn’t really care. Through the storm Sans heard the whispers of traffic. It was the only indicator of life in the city besides the street lights in the distance. No one besides Sans and the few cars travelling to and fro braved the weather. Sans was unprepared.

He hugged himself tighter. Any second now, he would drift away into the night. Leave all of this behind. It would be like falling asleep. But without dreams, nightmares… no more visions. He almost cried at the thought, letting a small, tired smile creep onto his face. If anything, he just wanted to stop seeing he and his friends die, he wanted to stop seeing things that may or may not happen, he wanted to stop seeing worlds that he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure if there were tears forming in his eye sockets, or if it was just rainwater. A choked sob escaped him. He was so cold.

Suddenly, through the rain and the thunder, the sound of a motorcycle caught Sans’ attention. He perked up slightly, peering through the darkness, towards the ring of light that was the park’s parking lot. Sure enough, a single motorcyclist was parking there. It was difficult to see from where Sans sat, but it looked like a human… a very rain-soaked human.

This was strange. 

This was wrong.

What would this guy be doing at a park at a time like this? In a storm? He couldn’t have been homeless– that motorcycle looked expensive. Chills ran down Sans back when the man scanned the darkness with a flashlight, pausing, and beginning to walk down the trail. Towards Sans.

Sans did not like this. Not one bit. He didn’t particularly care who this guy was, or why he was acting this way, but it certainly did not give him a good feeling. Sans didn’t want any interference. This guy might be the kind of guy to ask questions about what he was doing here. Maybe.

Bones creaking, Sans got up and dragged himself away from the bench, away from the path. It would take longer for people to find his ash if he died out in the bushes. He shivered, huddling as wind-thrown branches tried to hit him. He let the wind push him down so that he was lying down. Would anybody look for his ashes? Would anybody be able to find his ashes? It was definitely harder than finding a body. The amount of missing monsters in the Underground had stayed at about zero percent. It was still like that on the Surface.

He sighed, letting the rain overtake him. He wished he had some cigarettes. A bitter laugh almost escaped him. Here he was, waiting to die, and he was itching satisfy his addiction. Even now, in the last moments of his life, Sans’ addiction followed. Maybe it would make him feel a little better. He shut his eye sockets tight. There was nothing he could do about it now. He had no money on him and he was in no mood to walk anywhere. He doubted any sort of convenience store would be open now anyway–

“Hello?” A stale-sounding voice said through the rainfall. Sans didn’t move. He didn’t look to see who this guy was. If this was some goody-two-shoes looking to help a poor soul, Sans couldn’t care less. And yet, when he heard movement through the bushes nearby, Sans didn’t try to get away. He didn’t have the energy to get away. He cringed, light from a flashlight blinding him in the darkness. “Oh my god, are you okay?” Sans couldn’t get a good look at the guy. He didn’t want to get a good look at the guy. “Hey, let’s get you somewhere dry. C’mon…”

Sans tried to refuse when the guy hoisted him up. He really tried. He could only mutter in protest. Who the  _ hell _ was this guy? Did he really think that moving him somewhere would help?  _ Nothing _ helped. Sans attempted to push the guy away, but only ended up giving the guy a rough pat on the arm.

“Hey, hey… I know this is weird man, but you can trust me. I’m a friend. I’ll explain in a minute…”

Aching minutes later, Sans was sitting at a table underneath an open air shelter. Sans vaguely remembered being here with his friends, having a barbeque on a sunny day, a long time ago. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care. They were all just faces that would hold him back now. Before he could even try to get up and get away, a soaking leather jacket was placed on his shoulders. It was so heavy and cold that it made it difficult for him to move.

“There ya go… You should get warmer soon enough.”

Sans glared at the stranger, who had sat down beside him. In the light of the flashlight, the man’s features seemed stark and ghostly. Sans had never seen this guy before. Why was he trying to ‘help’ him? How had he known he would be here? What was wrong with him? Sans felt like he would crack underneath the weight of the jacket… but it was getting a little warmer.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here… right?”

Sans continued to glare, but ended up nodding through his shivers. He should be dead by now, but no, this guy wanted to make small talk. Of course. Of course this would happen to him.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated… but the short story is that I’m a coworker with Toriel… I work in the office at the school. We’re pretty good friends. If there’s one thing she talks about more than that kid of hers, it’s you.” The man chuckled. “I guess I sort of have an unfair advantage in that sense– I know everything about you, and you know nothing about me.”

Sans wanted to tell him to shut up, he didn’t care how this guy knew him. If Toriel had told him about Sans, he really knew nothing. He knew nothing. Not a single thing. He wanted to die, he wanted to die, _ he wanted to die _ , and this guy was ruining it for him.

“...The name’s Alex Williams, if you’re wondering.”

Sans didn’t respond. Maybe if he ignored him, he’d go away. A few minutes of rain and wind-filled silence passed. Alex leaned back in his seat, watching the storm. They were still getting wet because of the wind, but it wasn’t so deafening under the shelter.

“I get it man…” Alex said eventually, shivering a little. “Being alive sucks. But being alive has so much good in it too, ya know?”

Sans clenched his fists, trying to block the human out. He was  _ not _ hearing this right now. This complete stranger, telling him about life… Alex had no idea what it was like, having to deal with visions, with lies, with aches and pains and terrible people and terrible humans. Alex didn’t know what it meant for Sans to finally have some control in his life,  _ of _ his life… and he was taking it away from him. He was taking away his control and Sans couldn’t do anything but sulk.

Alex’s phone rang and he walked a few feet away, answering it, huddling by near a support beam. His back was to Sans. The skeleton watched the human for a few moments. He couldn’t make out what Alex was saying. Nothing was sticking with him. It all seemed to float around him without affecting him. Sans fought at the weight on his back, trying to free himself. He didn’t even try to be quiet– he could barely hear himself think over the wind, much less hear the leather material creaking. With what little energy he had left, he was able to shift the water-soaked jacket off. The question still ran through his fevered mind: Why wasn’t he dust yet? Why was he still here? Well, he supposed it would all be over any second now. He stood up, legs like jelly, and looked out into the storm. It was like some sort of void. Some terrible, furious void. Without even looking at the human, he started walking back into the storm. He was  _ not _ just going to sit there, he was  _ not _ going to wait out the storm, he was going to take control and fight this. Alex was only making things harder for him. He was sure Alex meant well–  _ everyone _ seemed to mean well –but he was a human who just didn’t understand.

“Hey! Sans, c’mon, man.” 

Sans cringed, stumbling over himself, wind whistling through his bones. Within seconds of leaving, Sans was back at the shelter, weighed down by the jacket again. Sans would’ve been more furious if he wasn’t so tired. Did this guy know that this thing was crushing him? He just wouldn’t give up.

Finally, he spoke, voice croaking like a deflated frog. “Leave me alone.”

“Heh… sorry man. I got strict orders that if I found you I’d keep an eye on you. You know how the ol’ Ms. Tori is.”

A flutter of helpless rage spiraled Sans’ spine. This guy had no right to be talking about Toriel. ‘Ms. Tori’? What a fuckin’ joke. Okay, sure, she certainly deserved that title, but Sans didn’t like hearing a complete stranger refering to her as such. To Sans, she was only Tori. His friend. His best friend. Probably even the love of his life.

Wait. 

Hold the phone… ‘ _ Strict Orders’?  _ Someone… Tori… Sans started to shiver more. This guy was told to do this by Toriel. That could only mean one thing.

They were looking for him. 

Toriel and Frisk and Papyrus and God-knows who else were looking for him. No. No… they couldn’t be. They shouldn’t be. Too many people would be hurt. He would hurt. They would hurt. Even as he sat there, struggling against the weight and the wind and the rain, control was slipping from his grasp like sand through a sieve. If they found him, he’d have to explain this whole mess and he could barely explain it to himself. He just wanted to stop existing. He just wanted to die. He just wanted all this hurting and aching and pain to  _ stop _ . He didn’t want to have visions any more. He never asked for this! He never asked for this kind of an existence! 

This was all going horribly, horribly wrong. He had to leave. He couldn’t let his friends, his _ family _ , see him like this. One stranger was enough. He tried to struggle against the jacket as inconspicuously as possible, wondering if he could muster enough energy to throw the guy back with a blast of magic. It might use up the last of his energy and kill him, but that’s what he was looking for, right?

Everything froze, however, when Sans saw a spark and a familiar motion from the man next to him.

He was smoking.

Right there. Right in front of him. Right out of reach for Sans to give him a knuckle-sandwich.

“Sure is cold tonight,” Alex said, a puff of smoke trailing by fast in the wind. “Hope the storm dies out soon.” The man paused, noticing Sans staring at him. “Look man, hate me all you want but killing yourself won’t do you any good.”

“Fuck you.”

Alex shrugged it off, looking out into the storm. “We should probably get you somewhere warmer.”

“No.”

“Okay, but it’s not gonna help anything to be out in the weather.” He paused. “You and Toriel are pretty close, right? She says you are.”

Sans didn’t say anything. If he had more energy, this guy would’ve been blown off the face of the Earth. And yet, part of him really really wanted to ask if he had any more cigarettes. The only thing stopping him was what little pride he had left.

“She really cares about you, man. So does the kid… Frist’s the name, right?”

No answer.

“You and this Frist kid have some kinda history, right? From the Underground?”

“Their name is  _ Frisk _ ,” Sans said through a solid jaw. This guy had been around Toriel how long, and he didn’t even know Frisk’s name? “And… yeah. If you know anything about recent events, you’d know Frisk saved the entirety of monsterkind…” ‘ _ Well, almost,’  _ he thought morosely, looking down at his hands.

“Oh… so  _ that’s _ the kid ambassador! Ha, I sure am an idiot.” He took a long drag of the cigarette. “Well… either way, from what I hear from Ms. Tori, Frisk sure looks up to you man.”

“Why?” He’d never imagined someone like Frisk looking up to someone like him. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” After this there’d be no way Frisk would even look  _ at _ him. He’d be alone and it would all his doing. They’d find him, sure… but he’d end up isolating himself and they would leave him and it would be all his fault, all his fucking fault. He’d just prolong the inevitable and end up killing himself later. He was empty of tears, so he just shivered in the dark.

“ _ ‘Doesn’t matter’ _ ? Man, you sure are something. I’d feel pretty honored to have a kid like that look up to me. Pity.”

Sans didn’t have the energy to answer. He could only sit there and frown and glare.

“Huh, speak of the devil…”

The skeleton glanced up at Alex, following his gaze, dread piling up in his ribcage, seeing a familiar car pulling into the park’s parking lot. They were here. This was the last straw. These final moments would be the deciding moments of fate. Sans had to gain some control.

Before Alex could do anything, Sans, letting out a stream of profanity, heavily chucked the jacket off with what little energy he had, and started running. No, no, no, no,  _ no. _ This was wrong, this was not how this was supposed to happen, no, no,  _ no! _ He ran and he ran, stumbling through the darkness. These were the last people he wanted to see, besides maybe Alex. Sans could hear Alex’s footsteps close behind him. He was yelling something. Sans didn’t care. He had to get away, away, away, _ away! _

All the wind was knocked out of him when Alex hooked an arm around his rib cage.

“Sans! We’re trying to help you!”

“ _ I don’t care! _ ” Sans yelled above the storm, pounding his free hand against Alex’s arm. “ _ Just let me die!” _

“I can’t do that, man–  _ Ack!” _

Sans’ burst of magic sent Alex flying, illuminating the night like a bolt of lightning. Both human and skeleton collapsed in the grass. Real lightning flashed in the distance, thunder accompanying the growing rain and darkness. Sans groaned, trying to get up but failing miserably, every bone in his body aching. Why wasn’t he dead yet? That last magic use should’ve killed him. He had to get out of there. He couldn’t let Toriel see him like this. He couldn’t let Frisk see him like this. He couldn’t let Papyrus see him like this. 

Again he tried to get up, arms shaking, rain hitting him like some terrible force that wanted him to sink into the mud and grass and gravel, into the Earth, into Death. He fell back down heavily, giving a final shudder before becoming still. How long had he been on the verge of death? It seemed like it had been forever since he’d even fallen into this storm. He didn’t have the energy to feel. As always he was somehow numb and freezing at the same time, sad but there was nothing there. He didn’t want to feel this anymore. He didn’t want this. He wanted to stop existing. The only thing he had to lose was his friends, and he knew they would be better off without him. He held his breath, listening to the rain pelt against him and the ground around him. He was so cold. He was in so much pain. He was nothing. He couldn’t be anything to anyone. He didn’t want to be anything to anyone. He wanted this suffering to stop.

And suddenly it did.

He was warm. The rain wasn’t slowly killing him anymore. He was warm, wrapped in something soft. Something big. Someone. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to move. If he was dying, this was how he wanted to die. This was where he wanted to die. His senses were dull, but some sort of empty instinct told him this monster holding him was a friend. His best friend. Probably the love of his life. She was whispering something, but Sans couldn’t hear. Everything had gone silent. Even the storm, even the thunder and the wind seemed nonexistent. His thoughts had gone silent. He could only observe what was happening around him– he was being carried. Someone was hugging him. Someone else was hugging him. Even another was hugging him. It was suffocating… but in a good way.

A kind way.

Someone wrapped him in a blanket. He couldn’t fight them. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. He closed his eye sockets, only to realize there were tears in them. Or were they remnant rain drops? It was impossible for him to tell. He didn’t care. He still wanted to die. But he felt that if he died here, like this… he could die happy. For once he would be happy, if only for a moment.

The echoes of a conversation drifted around him, familiar voices drifting in and out like the waves of a distant ocean.

“... is he okay?”

“... think so, but there’s more to this…”

“... what was he thinking? I don’t…”

“... you saw Mettaton…”

“... Sans?...”

“... Sh, Frisk…”

Sans felt movement near him. He felt like an idiot, sitting there, pulling the blanket around him as tight as he could. Probably crying. Everything was muffled. They were talking about him. He didn’t want to explain this. He couldn’t. But he couldn’t complain about being warm. He vaguely wondered where they were going. He didn’t really care. 

“... what’s Alex…?”

“... don’t worry…”

“....”

“... I’m sorry.”

Silence. 

Sans couldn’t tell who had said it. But he felt like it should’ve been him who said it. He wanted to apologize. Apologize for existing. Apologize for putting them into a panic. Apologize for everything. Whoever else was apologizing didn’t need to. They weren’t guilty of anything. There wasn’t anything wrong with them.

“... was I wrong for…?”

“... No. No, of course not…”

“... Mom?”

“... now, dear. Papyrus, you didn’t…”

“... I just… I don’t…”

Sans felt himself drifting in the warmth of this familiar space. The blanket was warm. The shoulder he was leaning on was warm. He was warm. Tired. So, achingly tired. His eye sockets fluttered, trying to get a better view of what was going on. Instead he found there really were tears flowing down his cheek bones. God, this was all so confusing and terrifying. What was going on? What was he going to say for himself? He couldn’t face anyone after what he’d done. He just wanted to die.

“ _ Please… just… let me… die.”  _ He wasn’t sure if he’d said it out loud or not. If he had, his voice was too quiet for even him to hear. He pulled the blanket even tighter around him, covering his head, trying to stay warm, afraid the feeling would disappear any second. His mind and soul continued to drift further and further.

“Mom!”

The darkness around him became void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are much appreciated and super encouraging/motivational for me! They really really help, especially feedback. :3  
> (I cannot wait to be done with this fanfic omg. i love it but dang i wanna work on my own stuff)


	11. No Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy :3

The void turned into the park. It seemed as if the storm had abruptly stopped. The wind still seemed to be keeping everyone on their toes. Sans couldn’t move. He could barely see. All he knew was that he was leaning against Toriel, and that Papyrus and Alex were standing nearby, talking. Sans could barely make out that Papyrus was still in his police uniform, badge, gun and everything. Frisk was bundled up in a raincoat, standing on the other side of Toriel. They were watching. They seemed pensive. Steadily, dread began to rise in Sans soul. Something was wrong. He couldn’t quite explain what it was, but there was a certain smell in the air, tension building, needing to snap. 

Toriel was smiling sadly at Sans, saying something that he couldn’t hear. Slowly, Sans was able to turn his head, looking around in a daze. There was an electricity in the air, but Sans felt as if he was submerged in thick molasses. His bones felt like they were made of lead. What was going on? Why were they still here? He wasn’t wrapped in a blanket anymore.

Everything around him seemed to be moving fast. Not too fast. Maybe he just felt slow. Either way, before he could realize what was going on, he’d made eye contact with Papyrus. Papyrus looked scared and confused… and when he saw that Sans was looking at him, a strange look of pain flashed across his skull. He looked almost angry. They both looked away.

“...Sans, dear… are you alright?”

Sans tried to respond but he could barely move his jaw to speak.

“Hm. I suppose that is a silly question…”

She continued to talk. She seemed nervous. She seemed different.

Sans watched his friends talk. Why were they just talking? It seemed like just moments ago they were prepared to run him to the nearest hospital or something. Not that he cared. This was probably for the best, dying here, surrounded by his friends. Minus Alex of course.

For a moment he wondered if dying was painful. Inwardly he laughed it off. It couldn’t be any more painful than it was to be alive. Even if it was painful, it would be over quick. Whatever was on the other side of life… he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

Sans found himself staring at Alex. He didn’t seem to even notice he was there, much less staring at him. He was a really gaunt human. Skeletal, almost. Sans seemed to be able to see him better here. Alex kept giving Papyrus strange glances when Papyrus wasn’t looking at him. That didn’t seem like a good thing. Frisk was saying something.

“...Why is Mr. Williams here?”

Toriel answered, but Sans didn’t hear it. This all felt strange and nonsensical. Sans felt like he was floating. He was in a daze. He wasn’t warm anymore. He didn’t like it here. He tried to say something, to ask if they could go home, go somewhere warm, go somewhere that wasn’t here… but he couldn’t talk. It wasn’t exactly alarming. He was more irritated than anything.

All of a sudden Alex was standing nearby, Papyrus following suit. Papyrus refused to look at Sans. Sans felt as if that act in itself would kill him then and there. They were talking, but still Sans couldn’t decipher their words. It all seemed very distant and strange. It was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic.

Alex continued talking to Papyrus, setting a hand on his shoulder. Sans didn’t like this. He tried sitting up more on his own, but his leaden bones kept him down. Toriel was patting him on the head, shushing and fretting. Couldn’t she see that something wasn’t right here? Sans couldn’t put his finger on what exactly, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t want to be here right now. He didn’t want to  _ be _ . He didn’t want to exist. Not here. Not now. However at the moment that didn’t seem like much of an option. 

Glancing over at Frisk seemed to take a lifetime. They were staring at Alex, face emotionless. Why had Toriel brought Frisk along? Shouldn’t Frisk be in bed? They looked tired to say the least. A brief twitch in their face showed a glimpse of something else: worry. And sorrow? He guessed it made sense. It was the only thing that seemed to make sense to him right now.

Suddenly it seemed as if the night cracked like a broken window. Papyrus was thrown to the ground. Toriel had an arm in front of Frisk, leaving Sans to fall heavily to the ground. Alex was holding a gun. Papyrus’ gun. Why had Papyrus had his gun? Sans knew it was a silly thing to be thinking in the sudden panic in the air. But his mind was slow, gelatinous, melty, and he was having a hard time organizing his thoughts. He knew Alex was being threatening. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why Alex wasn’t pointing the gun at him, but at Toriel. He didn’t know why he couldn’t move. He could only lay there, panic creeping into his thoughts like a slow trickle of water. He couldn’t do anything to stop Alex when he began to yell, gesturing at Papyrus, waving the gun around like some sort of madman.  _ What the hell was he doing? _ What was he yelling about? Frisk looked like they were about to cry.

If Sans hadn’t been frozen in his spot, he could’ve stopped him. He could’ve sent a blast of magic, thrown the gun from his hand, something,  _ anything, _ to save his friends. Alas, he could only stare in horror as the human continued to yell. 

He supposed this was what he expected from a human like him.

It seemed that every human he’d ever met had looked at him and cringed on the inside. The folks at Caffee… they just wanted to look good. The customers, giving him weird looks. That guy that gave him a hard time. The guy that assaulted his friends. Now Alex was here, brandishing the gun at the only people Sans ever cared about. And he couldn’t do anything about it. If he didn’t feel so empty, he would’ve shed a tear.

He tried desperately to sit up again. His body just wasn’t working. He couldn’t feel anything and he couldn’t move and he couldn’t sit up, God he just wanted to sit up a little. The darkness around them seemed to hold him down, holding him back, whereas it seemed to push Alex forward, giving everyone else life and breath. Life and breath that could be taken away in an instant. Life and breath that they very much deserved. He hoped that if Alex shot anyone, it would be him. But the way it looked, the gun wasn’t pointed anywhere near him. He couldn’t imagine a world without any of the three of his friends. It just didn’t make any sense.

_ BAM. _

Time froze. 

Everything was still. Everyone was still. Everyone except Sans. He was launched into the sitting position, gasping for breath, staring in shock. Papyrus was fine. Toriel was fine. Frisk…  Frisk was crumpled into a tiny heap on their tiny back, a spotlight seeming to illuminate them in the dark. A damp circle of red bloomed on their chest like some terrible flower. Toriel looked like she was in mid scream. Papyrus looked like he was about to attack. Alex was still in mid shot. No one was moving but Sans. They were literally frozen in time. Was… was Frisk dead? Sans stood up in the silence. They sure looked dead. This was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

“No.”

This couldn’t be real. 

“No.”

Why was Frisk dead?

_ “No.” _

They couldn’t be dead.

_ BAM _

Sans flinched, eye sockets closing sharply at the sound. He opened them. It hadn’t been a gunshot. He wasn’t dead. At least, he didn’t think he was. He was standing in a circle of golden light, ground covered in golden flowers. Frisk was laid out in front of him, a peaceful look on their face, arms holding a golden flower where the blood stained their shirt. Sans felt that they should be switched the other way around. He should be the one that was dead. He should be lying on the ground, cold to the bone, cold to the touch, cold as death. He took a wobbly step forward, trying to make sense of it all. This couldn’t be Frisk. Frisk couldn’t just… die. Frisk _ didn’t _ just die. This couldn’t be real.

“It’s not real.” Sans blinked and Frisk was standing in front of him, looking up at him. They were still holding the flower. “This isn’t real, Sans.”

Sans blinked in surprise, tempted to take a step back. “What is real, then?”

“You are.”

“So you aren’t dead?”

“No. Not where you are, anyway.”

“Frisk–”

“I’m not Frisk.”

A pause, Sans trying to wrap his mind around this.

“Who are you, then?”

“I’m a vision. A part of your imagination, a part of your mind. A part of you.”

Sans almost wept tears of joy. Frisk wasn’t dead. He was just having a nightmare.

“This isn’t exactly a nightmare, Sans.”

“Well… can you tell me what’s going on? Where am I?” He paused. “Do you know any more than I know?”

Not-Frisk looked at him for a moment. “I know that your friends care very much about you. I know that they love you. I know that they just want you to be happy. I know that they would never ever ever leave you alone or abandon you. I know that they are scared for you right now. Really scared. I know that everyone makes mistakes. I know that–”

“Please…”

“I know that you love them very much too. Toriel is the light of your life. Everyday Papyrus gives you hope. And whenever you think of Frisk you smile inside. Whenever you think of your friends you feel a little better. I know that you are hurting right now. I know that you don’t want to go back.”

“F…  _ please _ …” The words stung him.

“I know that you have to go back. No matter what happens, you have to face your friends. You have to be honest with yourself and with them. I know that they will–”

“ _ Please.  _ Stop.” He was shaking now. “ I… I don't want to break their hearts all over again.  I can’t go back.” He knew what they said was true. But he also knew that he was broken. He would die someday. He couldn’t be happy. “It's… better if they never see me. I just want to die.”

Not-Frisk smiled sadly. “Sans. Whatever happens after you wake up… I believe you can do the right thing.”

“But the right thing… kiddo, it’s gonna hurt. I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure I even know what the right thing is!”

“Sans. No one is going to blame you. They know more than you give them credit for.”

“I know…” He really did know that. He was just scared. So, so scared. Scared of their rejection. Scared of their thoughts about him. Scared. “I just really, really don’t want to be alive. Can’t I just die? I just want to stop existing. I don’t know how long I can go on living like this anymore.”

“ _ Sans. _ ” They put a hand on his arm. The familiar look of determination sent chills down Sans’ spine. “ _ You _ are stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“But–”

“Listen to me, Sans. No matter how dead you feel on the inside… you’ll always be surrounded by friends. They would never dream of leaving you.”

Sans took a step back, freeing his arm from their grasp. He felt helpless. Hopeless. “But what if they do?”

“They won’t. Papyrus loves you. Toriel loves you. Frisk loves you. Undyne loves you. Alphys loves you. And I think if you give it some time, Mettaton might even come to love you. Your visions are only echoes of other lifetimes, other timelines, timelines that don’t exist in this universe. Not anymore. They don’t mean anything anymore. In this universe, resets don’t exist. Don’t waste this opportunity.”

Sans closed his eye sockets, really truly feeling as if he was going to cry. If this was a vision, why did it feel so real? He didn’t want to wake up… but he didn’t want to stay here. What would he say to his friends? What  _ could _ he say to his friends? He was clueless and scared and disgusting and a despicable excuse for a skeleton– Sans realized Not-Frisk was hugging him, face buried into his chest. Slowly, bones creaking… he hugged them back. He wasn’t crying. This didn’t seem like the place or time to. But he sure felt like it.

“Sans.” They let go of the hug, and Not-Frisk held out the flower to him. “I want you to remember something.”

Tentative, he took a hold of the flower’s stem, gentle. “Yeah?”

“True friends–  _ your friends  _ –think you’re a good egg, even if you’re slightly cracked.”

Sans smiled a little. “Heh.” He smiled a little wider, holding  back tears. “I’m scrambling for an egg joke here, kid. Can’t seem to whip one up… g-guess I’m a bit fried.”

Not-Frisk let go of the Flower, laughing a little. Sans laughed too. “Eggs make lousy comedians, Sans, and you’re the eggiest. They always crack up at their own yokes,” Not-Frisk said, taking a few steps backwards. They smiled apologetically. “It’s time to wake up now, Sans.”

Sans frowned, nodding, clutching the flower to his chest as if it were some sort of lifeline and as if he actually wanted to live. “I know…” He sighed. “I know.”

“Goodbye, Sans.”

Not-Frisk stepped out of the light, shadows enveloping them as they disappeared.

“Goodbye, kid.”

  
  
  


Sans woke up. 

His head hurt like hell. Everything hurt like hell. But he was alive. He had survived the storm. Whether he liked it or not, here he was, in a strange bed, smothered in a large blanket. Everything was blurry, covered in golden light peering through the nearby window. Where was he? He stirred, trying to get a feel for his body again. Despite the aching in his bones, for once Sans felt a little hopeful. Optimistic almost. Sort of. Remembering his vision, he felt as if things could get better, even if he wasn’t feeling very good right now. And that felt… good. It was a nice change to say the least. But where was he? He blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog out of his eyes.

It was Toriel’s guest room. He supposed that made sense. His bedroom wasn’t really where he wanted to wake up anyway. Usually the clutter didn’t bother him, but just thinking about his room made him grimace a little.

A soft snore from nearby caught his attention. Turning his head, he saw Toriel sitting in a big arm chair, a blanket thrown over her shoulders and a book dangling from her clutches. Her reading glasses were perched delicately, if off-center, on her snout. There were dark bags under her eyes. For a moment Sans felt a pang of guilt. It looked like she’d stayed up to keep an eye on him. He stirred again, rubbing his head. He wished it wasn’t so bright in here, though the warmth really did feel good. He sat up, wondering if it would be worth it to pull the blinds… but the more he moved, the more he realized how bone-weary he was. He leaned back into the wall of pillows behind him. He decided it would be best not to think too much. Thinking meant having thoughts he didn’t really want to acknowledge right now. So he listened to the birds outside, smelling something delicious in the air. Toriel’s house always smelled delicious.

“Oh! Oh dear… you’re awake,” Toriel’s voice caught Sans off-guard, causing him to flinch.

He tried smiling at her, but he feared it looked like he was grimacing. “Uh… h-hey, Tori.”

She set her book down, folding the blanket quietly. She smiled kindly at him. She looked even more tired now. She yawned, glasses askew. “Good morning, dear. Or should I say evening? Hm. Noon at least. Well…” She adjusted his blanket and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “You just stay put while I get you a cup of tea. We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

She left. 

Well. That sure was… something? This wasn’t really what he’d expected to wake up to. He furrowed his brow, vaguely wondering if he was still asleep. Nope. This was real. He’d be more scared if this was a dream. He slouched deeper into the pillows, letting the warmth envelope him, closing his eye sockets for a moment. Man, he was tired. He felt like he could sleep forever. He kinda wished he could. A strange sort of nervous energy bubbled in his soul. Not-Frisk’s words were echoing in his mind. He had to be honest with himself and with his friends. With the world. He sighed. He was scared. But it was a different kind of scared. There wasn’t anymore dread in his ribcage. 

This felt… feasible.

Toriel returned, carrying a tray of teacups, setting it down on the bedside table. Papyrus and Frisk filed in behind her, both looking tired. Papyrus smiled when he saw Sans. He looked like he was burning with questions, but stifled them with tea. He was wearing his casual clothes– he must’ve stayed over. Frisk seemed a little confused, but was beaming to see that Sans was alright again. Sans felt like he would burst into tears– Frisk really really wasn’t dead. He was so relieved.

Sans took a sip of his tea. It was oddly refreshing. Nobody spoke until he was finished.

“I…” He looked around at all of their faces, touched by their concern, sad that he was such an idiot, such a disgusting idiot, to have worried them so much. They didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve them. “... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.” On an instinct, he hid his face in his hands, trying to stop them from looking at him. He was embarrassed and scared and confused. He knew he needed their help but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling like he was beyond help. Beyond fixing. He was so stupid, stupid, stupid–

“It’s not your fault, Sans.” Toriel had a large paw on his shoulder, and was looking at him earnestly. “I think I understand… at least a little. You’re struggling. You’ve been struggling… right?”

Sans nodded, trying hold back his ugly sobs. He was failing miserably. 

“And… yesterday was the breaking point for you.”

Again he nodded. He let all of it out, every sob he’d ever held back, every tear that hadn’t made it out of him. They waited in patient silence for him, Toriel holding him softly. He had to let it go. All of it. Get this over with before he told them the rest of it.

Eventually, he found himself able to hold it back, if just a little. He was even more tired than before, skull pounding. He sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

Papyrus spoke up. “If anyone should be sorry, Sans, it’s me.”

“Pap–”

“No, no, let me speak! I should’ve seen the s-signs of depression… I did! But I didn’t do anything about it! I–”

“ _ Papyrus!” _ Toriel cut him off sternly, smacking him gently on the wrist. “You are no more to blame than anyone in this room is. Now, you two listen to me: if I hear another darned apology out of either of you, why, I… I’ll burn my next batch of cookies!”

Frisk gasped in horror.

Sans smiled wanly. “Heh… I suppose it’s batter that way.”

Papyrus rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. He was trying so hard to look annoyed, but it was clear that he was holding back a relieved smile.

Sans sighed, rubbing his head. “I… I guess I oughta explain myself a little.”

“Only if it makes you feel better. We’ll always be here if you need to talk.” Toriel paused. “Should I ask Frisk to leave?”

“Nah… I’ll tell the kid-friendly version of it. Heh.” He hugged himself, trying not to cry again. “Not really sure how to explain it though. Guess I’ll just start off by saying I’ve got some problems… I’ve always had some problems. Ever since before we came to the Surface… I’ve been a wreck. I was just better at hiding it then, I guess...”

Sans told them everything. He told them about the smoking, the aching, the pain, the visions. He was a little vague about Mettaton– they’d seen the aftermath of that it seemed. He told them about how much he wished he was dead. How much he wanted to not exist, how much hatred he’d been harboring against every human (except for Frisk of course). How hard it was to even talk to them now, wishing he could smoke, wishing he could die and forget everything that had ever happened in his life. He told them about how terrible his visions were, how he’d seen each and everyone of his friends dead, how he’d died so many ‘fudging’ times. He told them about his job experience, he told them about Dogamy and Dogaressa, he even told them about his talk with Grillby. All the while he tried desperately to keep himself from crying again, fists balled up in the sheets, trying to get rid of all his nervous, terrified energy. 

He let out a sigh. “So I… I’m pretty messed up. I… I love you guys, I really do. But… Everything seems like too much right now. I don’t know how… I don’t know how to be happy anymore. I just… please…  _ please _ don’t hate me.”

“Sans, we could  _ never _ hate you!” Frisk said, climbing on to the bed and giving him a big hug. Sans smiled, hugging them back, holding onto them for dear life. The earnestness in their voice made him start to choke up. He was such an idiot. Of course they wouldn’t hate him.

Before he knew it, Sans was being smothered in a group hug, Papyrus holding up Sans and Frisk, Toriel encircling them all. Sans couldn’t help but laugh. It was a real, genuine laugh. An almost happy laugh. 

It was then, laughing and crying in the midst of his friends, his  _ family _ , that Sans realized something.

Even if he never felt truly happy, truly good, truly true… he really would always have his friends. He would always have his brother. He would always have Toriel. He would always have Frisk. They would never give up on him. No matter how much he felt like he might be holding them back, they would bring him with them. They would help him through whatever mess, whatever storms that came his way in life. He’d always be free to watch anime with Alphys, poke food puns at Undyne, chat with Grillby, hang out with his old buddies from Snowdin. He knew there would be days of turmoil and distress and terrible things… but in that moment, Sans felt as if everything was going to change. That something big had happened, and had passed, and he had made it through that. Somehow… because of them, Sans was still alive. He was  _ alive _ . And now, with them, he felt like he could start living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i bet that chapter title scared ya for a second there :3
> 
> Last chapter should be up today too!
> 
> Anywho, as always, comments and feedback are super appreciated for future reference!


	12. No More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finis~

Sans whistled a tune, opening the door to his apartment. Papyrus was singing something in the kitchen, and a wonderful aroma wafted through the air. Was that… spaghetti? Papyrus sure was improving. Sans hung up his jacket, stretching. It’d been about a couple weeks since his friends had rescued him. A whirlwind of things had happened in that time, and Sans was still reeling from the newness of everything… 

For one, Sans had a good job now, working under Grillby at the cash register and the bar, helping around in general. He saw a lot of his old pals there, and he actually enjoyed it. It was awesome, seeing how many humans were getting interested in the place. The humans who came were generally more interested in Grillby and the other patrons, but they were kind enough to buy things and chat it up with those nearby. Sans also acted as a secondary ‘grunt’, kicking people out if need be. It didn’t happen often, and more often than not he used his magic to impress the patrons. Sans loved it there.

Thanks to Toriel, Sans was getting out of the house more, playing with Frisk, seeing new things. He’d even met some of her students, helping demonstrate some of the different kinds of magics available to monsters. He had fun playing with the little tikes, levitating and performing magic tricks in front of them. Needless to say, they were constantly begging Toriel for him to come back. Who knew he’d be so good with kids?

Sans had even met with Alex, thanking him for ‘checking up on him’. The first thing about him that surprised Sans was how different he looked in the light. He looked a lot younger, less skeletal. After a proper introduction and conversation, it seemed that Alex was the school counselor, and had a passion for helping people out. Sans decided he was pretty cool.

Papyrus, Sans, Alphys, and Undyne were all deciding to meet together for cooking lessons, although Sans and Toriel may or may not have decided to have their own private cooking lessons together every so often. Undyne and Alphys was surprisingly understanding when they heard about what had happened with Sans. Alphys admitted that she had similar struggles in her life, but Undyne helped her ‘power through’ those hard times.

Sans and Mettaton weren’t talking.

Other than cooking lessons, Sans and Toriel were meeting almost every other day after work, checking up on each other and just hanging out, Frisk often playing nearby. Sans relished these moments, glad to catch up with with his best friend. She’d taught him several things about cooking, and Sans would often come home and astound Papyrus with whatever new trick he’d learned. Of course, Sans and Toriel shared the best jokes together. It seemed that food puns were an endless buffet, ripe for the picking. Especially if one didn’t mind hearing them over and over again.

“Oh! Hello Sans! Nyeh-heh, I’ll be out in a moment!” Papyrus called from the kitchen, bustling about.

Papyrus hadn’t really said much about what had happened between him and Mettaton. Sans didn’t push it. He assumed that he’d tell him when he was ready. Papyrus’ work issue had been sorted out smoothly, and he seemed to be recovering really well. Papyrus had admitted that the shooting incident had really left him feeling stranded and confused, and he found himself doubting others and himself more than he used to. But he was trying his darndest to be positive, and always see the best in others. He encouraged Sans to do likewise. Sans had to admit it was really strange, seeing how different he was. 

It was a slow and bumpy road for the both of them, but they knew they could count on each other.

Sans plopped down on the couch, yawning. The familiar lack of nicotine was bugging him, but with the help of his friends he’d been smoke-free ever since they’d found him. It was really really hard. He found himself having daydreams about lighting a cigarette, or staring a little too long at the smokers on the street when he passed by. Just the smell was enough for him to stop in his tracks for a moment. It was so, so difficult, but things seemed to be looking up.

Papyrus practically jumped onto the couch, excited to see Sans in such a good mood. “How was work today, brother? Grillby keeping you on your toes?”

“Heh, he’s been workin’ me to the  _ bone _ , bro.”

“... _ Nyeh heh _ , funny as ever I see.”

“Ah, come on. You got  _ tibi _ -honest, I’m sure you found that  _ humerus _ .”

Papyrus snorted, rolling his eyes. “Whatever floats your boat, Sans. Anything fun happen today?”

Sans shrugged, crossing his legs. “Well, if you call having to kick someone out for messing with someone’s drink ‘fun’, yup.”

Papyrus winced. “Oh.”

“Yeah… but it was nice talking with Grillby. I don’t think he realizes how much he’s fretting over me. He keeps asking how I’m doing like… every hour  _ on the hour _ . Heh. I appreciate it though.”

“That’s good! I’m glad there’s someone at your workplace that cares about you!”

“Yeah…” There was a comfortable silence between them, birdsong outside the window.

“Sans?”

“Yeah bro?”

“Have… have you had anymore visions? Y-you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Sans frowned. That was a bit difficult to answer. “Well… I’ve had some nightmares. But nothing as… real-feeling as a vision, I guess. It’s like… it feels like something changed. I’m not sure. I…” He paused. “I’m still scared that I… that it’s gonna happen again. I guess nightmares are an upgrade. They’re still disorienting.” He shook his head. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with, though.”

Papyrus nodded. “I suppose that’s good, then, right?”

“Heh. You betcha.”

Evening traffic rattled outside, filling the pause with a familiar ambiance.

Papyrus spoke suddenly, voice a bit quieter than usual. “Sans… there’s something I want to talk about with you. It’s about M-mettaton.”

Sans sat up, giving him his full attention.

“Um… I’m not really sure how to say this…” Papyrus took a deep breath, drawing on his boundless extent of courage. “Well… when we went looking for you, Alphys gave us a call. She said that we needed to come and see what had happened with Mettaton. When we got there Mettaton was in really bad shape. He’d said that, uh, you had been there. That you’d attacked him. He’s not pressing charges or anything… I just, I want to hear your side of the story… if that’s okay with you?”

Sans paused, frowning a little. “It’s no secret that I hated his guts. But… uh, he…” How was he going to say this? He furrowed his brow. He had to be honest. “Mettaton was trying to manipulate me. He was gonna tell everyone about my bad habit. He was using me… I still don’t really know why.”

Papyrus was quiet.

“And, um… he told me that you two were a thing or something… he, uh…” Oh man this was going to hurt. “He showed me a recording of you and him, uh, talking.”

Papyrus seemed startled, eye sockets growing wide. “He–  _ oh. _ ”

“It’s–”

“ _ Oh my GOD. _ ”

“Pap–”

“That  _ LYING BUTT FACE!” _ Papyrus shot up from his seat in a sort of rage the Sans had never seen before.

Well, that wasn’t what Sans was expecting, so he promptly shut up.

“I cannot  _ believe _ …  _ ARGH! _ I should’ve– oh my goodness, Sans, I am so sorry!  _ UGH _ , I can’t believe I let myself be played like… like a fiddle! Why must I be cursed with being so naive?”

“B-bro, are you okay?”

Papyrus fell down on the couch, yelling incoherently into a pillow. When he was done, he sighed, sat back down, foot tapping at the speed of light. “ _No_ , I am _not_ okay!” He huffed. “Okay, look– Yes, M-mettaton and I were meeting. But we weren’t _dating!_ What an absurd concept, eugh… we were just friends. I swear on all of my special attacks that we were _just_ buddies! All we ever did was meet and talk, and _argh_ _I can’t believe he would just… AUGH!”_

Sans smiled, somewhat amused by his brother’s sudden reaction to this.

“I don’t know  _ what _ exactly he showed you… but if you got the assumption that we were together I suppose I can g-guess. That was  _ one _ time! And it was just a kiss. I, uh… left in a hurry…  _ that stupid metal heap of poop. _ ” He muttered the last part under his breath.

Sans snorted. How could he be so simultaneously relieved and mad and happy at the same time?

“What? You think this is funny?”

Sans chuckled. “I’m sorry– pft –really! Really I am! Heh… I’m just a little surprised.”

Papyrus fumed for a few seconds, and then let out his own chuckle. “Nyeh-heh… I suppose this is all a little silly. Sort of.” His foot continued to tap. “But  _ goshdarnit _ , no wonder Mettaton talked so weird about you.  _ Ugh _ , I’m such an idiot sometimes!”

“Heh, I think there’s enough idiot between the two of us to last a lifetime.”

Papyrus chuckled. “Well, that’s one thing I don’t doubt. Nyeh-heh… We’re just two idiot brothers, aren’t we?”

“The idiotest. But you know what?”

“What?”

“We’re also the best.”

Papyrus beamed, pulling Sans in for a hug. Sans hugged him back.

Together, they both knew that they would never fail.

Together, they knew they would never be alone.

Together, they could conquer anything.

  
Without fail, they were the best brothers either of them could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have it, folks, the finale of this fanfic, the termination of this tale, the end of this adventure. It was difficult, terrifying, and fun to write. I'm glad that it's over, and I'm glad that I was able to stick through with this. I want to thank all of you, the commenters, the kudosers, and the silent readers. THANK YOU for sticking with this, sticking with me, and sticking with Sans.
> 
> Thank you Toby Fox for your wonderful story, thank you to my friends for giving me encouragement.
> 
> Thank you for all the wonderful comments.
> 
> :3c


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